


bend

by neroh



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Architects, Break Up, Crushes, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nepotism, Romantic Comedy, Secret Relationship, Sense and Sensibility AU-ish, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Late as usual, Harry,” Chester grumbles.</p><p>He notices how he’s the only one who turns to see the latest addition to the meeting come sauntering in without a care.  </p><p>And <i>who</i> Eggsy sees is a truly beautiful specimen of a male human being. Like - beyond all of his comprehension.</p><p>Harry Hart is all long limbs hidden under tailored trousers, a button down shirt, and an opened blazer. He carries his satchel under one arm and the morning paper in the other while he drinks from a Starbucks coffee cup. His hair is wind-blown by the tubes, no doubt, and wavy, and his dark eyes are hidden behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses. </p><p>He seems oblivious to the interruption he’s caused as he goes to take a seat next to Merlin who is trying to suppress his laughter. </p><p>It should be illegal for someone to look that bloody good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Bre for being an amazing beta and friend, as well as Leah, Ronald (you tart), Mara, and Liv. 
> 
> I work in the AEC industry in the US and decided to put my knowledge to good use, hence this story happening when an Anon gave me a Tumblr prompt about a secret relationship at a workplace. If you're from the UK and notice any inconsistencies, please let me know via the comments or on my Tumblr so I can fix it.
> 
> Mix is located [here](http://8tracks.com/boldly/the-smoke-gets-in-your-eyes).

The stains on the bathroom mirror are suspicious and he reckons that Jamal has something to do with it, but Eggsy _really_ doesn’t have time to deal with it because he’s already knackered and it’s not even half seven.

He eyes his reflection for the twentieth time, possibly thirtieth, but he’s not counting— _really_. “Boldfaced lie,” Eggsy mutters to his frowning twin, slightly arched brows furrowed enough to wrinkle his glabella, as he straightens the edges of his collar.

Remembering to breathe, Eggsy pulls on a wheat-colored jumper and double checks that he’s put on deodorant, aftershave, and brushed his teeth because he doesn’t want to be _that guy_ on the first day of work.

You know. The smelly guy.

Nerves aflutter, Eggsy _finally_ leaves the bathroom and nearly careens into Ryan, who is holding a rather full mug of tea. “Oi!” he shouts.

“Oi yourself,” his roommate hollers back, protectively shielding his mug. “Watch it, will you?”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “Says the bloke still in his robe,” he huffs as he scoots past and heads down the hallway towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, whatcha doin’ up so early? It’s not even eight, mate,” Ryan tells him, following several paces behind.

“I have my first day of work,” Eggsy replies as he snatches his messenger bag from his bed, a black faux leather thing he picked up from Topshop at Oxford Circus. It looks expensive, impressive even, though it only cost fifteen pounds.

Ryan scratches his head, confused by the looks of it. “Oh yeah,” he finally says. “At that fancy gig with all them fancy folks.”

“Fancy engineerin’ folks,” Eggsy supplies, trying not to laugh.

“But you went to school for architecture, mate.”

He nods, slinging his shoulder strap across his body. “Right you are, Ryan. I was there through all them years of hard work, gluin’ my exacto blade cuts with super glue during studio, and printin’ drawings durin’ internships.”

“They teach that at the Bartlett?” his roommate asks dubiously. “Sounds like a waste to me.”

Eggsy chuckles. “Well, I need to finish payin’ off student loans somehow,” he chirps, tapping Ryan on the back as he brushes by. “Don’t have anyone else to do it for me.”

“Good luck, I suppose. And don’t fuck up!”

 

* * *

 

He finds Merlin waiting for him outside of the Aldgate East tube station clutching two cups of coffee and looking spectacularly grumpy, per usual.

“You never smile. You know that? Never,” Eggsy observes once he’s been handed his beverage, flashing his mentor a winning smile.

Merlin raises his brows over the rim of his glasses and sips his coffee. “I’m not caffeinated enough to show emotion,” he deadpans while they walk. He gives the young man a once over. “This is a vast improvement from your university days.”

“And your compliments are as sweet as ever, Professor Greaves!” Eggsy mocks. He places his free hand over his heart and bats his lashes. “Truly, you know how to make a lad blush.”

The older man rolls his eyes. “Sod off or I’ll have you fired,” he mumbles, his Scottish brogue thick.

Eggsy became acquired with visiting Professor Hamish ‘Merlin’ Greaves during his first year at the Bartlett School of Architecture. The man was brash, brilliant—hence the apt nickname—and took a liking to the orphaned student in his summer studio with an insatiable appetite for learning and natural talent like he’d never seen.

After some inquiries amongst the faculty, Merlin hired Eggsy to be his teaching assistant for his other courses the following semester, slowly building a mentorship and later, friendship, with the young man. He helped him with applying for internships and suggested that Eggsy go for his Masters of Architecture, a goal that seemed incredibly out of reach.

Merlin welcomed him to crash on his couch when Jamal and Ryan decided to be too obnoxious to live (seriously, who in their right mind throws parties on a Wednesday?), proofread his term papers, and talked him out of several nervous breakdowns while studying for the second half of the Architects Registration Board and Royal Institute of British Architects examinations.

When all was said and done, Merlin took Eggsy out for celebratory beers when he landed his first real job out of school. So what if it wasn’t with Merlin’s firm?

One day they would work side-by-side and undoubtedly drive everyone around them up a wall. Apparently, that day is _now_ and just a few seconds, which has him all sorts of flustered.

“Thank you for this,” Eggsy says breathlessly, flushing a hysterical shade of pink. “Really, Merlin. I can’t thank you enough.”

His friend hooks his fingers around his elbow and pulls them to a stop. “You _deserve_ this opportunity, you brilliant little shit. Now,” Merlin tells him, going to straighten Eggsy’s collar as they stand on the sidewalk, “go in there and knock them on their arses like I know you can, alright? And for fuck’s sake, breathe. Don’t want you passing out on me.”

Eggsy exhales deeply, nodding fervently. “Won’t pass out,” he promises.

“And no throwing up either,” Merlin adds as he takes out his building pass.

“When have I ever?” he asks, insulted.

His mentor chuckles, horribly amused at the young man’s panic as the lobby door opens for them. “You look like you did on opening night of senior exhibitions,” Merlin teases, presses a hand in the middle of Eggsy’s shoulders. “And you did brilliantly then, too. Remember?”

“Barely,” the young man confesses as they head towards the lifts of the lobby—a monstrosity that’s supposed to resemble a poor man’s _Falling Water_. “I reckon I was too busy tryin’ not to vom in the corner.” He glances at Merlin’s attire and back at his own, feeling like a penguin in a suit. “Am I too done up?”

A hand ruffles his hair, followed by warm laughter. “You look fine.”

“You sure?” Eggsy asks, motioning to his sweater and trousers. “Not too teacher’s pet or Nana’s boy?”

Merlin shrugs. “You look like a bloke starting his first day at a new job,” he answers. “By the end of the day, everyone will know what a cheeky bugger you really are.”

“You’ll tell them, no doubt,” Eggsy mutters as the lift dings, indicating that they’ve arrived at their destination.

The doors slide open to reveal an elegantly appointed office space that looks more like it’s taken a page out of a history book rather than _Architectural Digest_.

The walls are a tasteful wood paneling—dark stain, of course—and cream colored wallpaper with honest to god hand painted details, so light and delicate that it must have cost the owner of Kingsman Engineers a bloody fortune.

“It’s not like you haven’t been here before,” Merlin mutters as they stroll past reception and head to the bullpen, where they will be sitting.

Eggsy nods. “Wasn’t payin’ much attention to the decor.”

“Trying not to vom again?”

He rolls his eyes and ignores the comment. The principal’s offices and conference rooms are sectioned off by glass partitions that go from carpeted floor to ceiling while the rest of the space is open, a growing trend amongst companies.

Everything he sees is state-of-the-art and luxurious, including his newly appointed desk and a name tag that says, _Gary Unwin_.

“It’s strange to see your given name,” Merlin comments as he comes out of his office, coffee cup still in hand.

The young man snorts. “Took the words right out of my mouth,” he agreements. “I don’t even remember the last time someone’s called me Gary. I suppose no one will take a designer seriously if his name is Eggsy.”

“You reckon they’ll take you seriously anyway?”

“Wanker,” Eggsy mutters, nudging Merlin with his elbow.

He gets shown around before his colleagues start filtering in—not that he hasn’t been before, but it’s been several weeks since Eggsy’s final interview.

“This is the galley,” Merlin say with an accompanying gesture towards a kitchen area complete with a liquor cabinet. He must notice how the young man’s eyes light up. “We only crack that open on special occasions.”

“First day is a special occasion,” Eggsy hints, winking.

The older man shakes his head while he fills a mug with coffee, having finished his previous cup. “You get a Friday happy hour, _if_ you’re lucky.”

Eggsy scoffs at this. “You act like you don’t even remotely like me, guv.” He sees Merlin goes to say something and cuts him off. “Which I _know_ isn’t true or you’ve wouldn’t have helped me all these years, yeah?”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Merlin grouses, leaving the galley with a hint of a pleased grin. “This way is where we store the plotters. Certain you remember those?”

By the time they come back to Eggsy’s desk, four other colleagues have arrived. Three of them are men and a single woman, all of them quite posh and serious looking.

The first male and possibly the youngest of the three has brown hair and beady blue eyes with a weak chin, popular amongst those of the upper echelon. He happens to glance at Eggsy and rolls his eyes at him, already deciding that he doesn’t like him.

The other two seem like they are stuck to each other like glue, one with honey-colored hair and warm brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and the second with dark brown hair and the most striking blue eyes Eggsy’s ever seen. Bloody hell!

All three of them are tall, taller than Eggsy’s one hundred and seventy-seven centimeters.

The solitary female shares the second male’s honey colored hair and warm brown eyes, though she is closer to Eggsy’s age than his. She also happens to be putting her very expensive tote bag down on the desk across from his own, after draping her equally pricey coat over the back of her chair.

“Oh, good,” Merlin says. “Some of the team is here. You four, come ‘round here and be personable for a moment while I introduce you to Gary Unwin, our level one architect.” He gestures a careless hand to each person, who looks Eggsy up and down. “This is Charlie Hesketh, Percival Morton, James Lance, and Roxanne Morton. They _will_ be as charming and welcoming as I know them to be while I join the principal’s meeting.”

The woman is the first to extend her hand. “Call me Roxy,” she says with a friendly smile.

“I’m Eggsy,” he replies.

“Eggy?” Roxy questions, raising a brow.

He shakes his head. “No, _Eggsy_ ,” he explains. “Was born on Easter Sunday.”

“Eggy?” Charlie interrupts with his fancy Oxford thermos as he leans on Eggsy’s barren desk. “And where did they dig you up?”

Roxy glares at him. “Charlie, knock it off.”

“No need to bite my head off, Roxy,” he shrugs. “I’m only making conversation, right, Eggsy?”

Eggsy inhales and nods. “Hm.”

“So, _Eggy_ , are you Oxford or Cambridge?” Charlie inquires before going to take a sip from his thermos.

“Neither,” Eggsy answers through gritted teeth.

Charlie raises a brow, confused. “Saint Andrews?”

“Durham?” He frowns when Eggsy shakes his head. Snapping his fingers, a leer breaks out across his face. “No, wait, I think we may have met. Did you serve me at the McDonald’s in Winchester service station?”

Eggsy forces a smile. “No, but if I had,” he says pushing Charlie off his desk, “I’d given you an extra helping of secret sauce.”

“It’s _definitely_ Saint Andrews,” Charlie snickers.

Percival clears his throat. “Actually, Unwin went to the Bartlett,” he interjects. “First class honors, right?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy answers, nodding as Charlie’s smug grin falls away. “How did you know?”

James raises his hand. “My doing,” he admits. “Class of 1999 _and_ I subscribe to the alumni newsletter.”

“Oh hell,” Eggsy groans, blushing. “You read the…”

“Graduate spotlight, yes I did,” James says. “In fact, Merlin has it in his office. Wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.”

Charlie snorts, unimpressed. “I bet your parents have a shrine dedicated to you back at home.”

“My parents died when I was six,” Eggsy snaps, fighting the urge to punch this idiot in the face. “But I’m sure they would.”

“Touchy,” Charlie mumbles as he lumbers off towards another area of the office.

Roxy frowns in his direction, shaking her head. “Ignore him,” she tells Eggsy.

“I usually do,” Percival adds, leaning in. “He’s Chester King’s nephew, so he thinks he owns the place. You coming in here and having talent has gotten his knickers in a twist, plus you’re _actually_ licensed. You can call me Percy. Only our parents call me Percival.”

Roxy nudges him, grinning. “Usually when you’re in trouble.”

“I am the very picture of good behavior,” Percy scoffs, offended. “I have _no idea_ what you’re going on about!”

 

* * *

 

“So the principals have their powwow before the staff meeting on Mondays,” Roxy explains as she and Eggsy take a seat in the largest conference room.

Eggsy nods, watching as the rest of the firm filter into the room. “What do they usually do in the principal’s meetings?”

“Yell at each other, I reckon,” she replies with a shrug. Roxy uncaps her pen. “It’s basically a pissing contest, which Chester always wins because he signs the checks.”

He chuckles. “Is it a bit of the same in the staff meetings?”

“ _That_ usually depends on how the principal meetings go,” Roxy says, grinning. She leans in to whisper into Eggsy’s ear, the sweet floral smell of perfume faintly lingering around them. “Those are the most fun —when they get all short with one another while the rest of us just watch. It’s like watching soaps on the telly, except you get paid.”

James slumps down in front of them, turning around. “The best is when Harry comes in late and Chester has a fit because he missed the principal’s meeting… _again_ ,” he adds with glee.

“Who’s Harry?” Eggsy inquires.

“Harry Hart,” James answers. “He’s one of the structural engineering principals.”

Roxy nods. “And he’s always late.”

“Even when Merlin calls him to get his arse out of bed, he’s _still_ late!” James whispers, shaking his head as he turns around. “It’s a truly amazing feat and drives Chester out of his mind.”

Eggsy is intrigued and scoots up to James’ shoulder. “Was he late today?”

“I didn’t even see him in his office,” the older man tells him, smiling as Percy takes a seat. “There shall be fireworks.”

The staff meeting goes on like the ones at his previous firm and it’s duller than watching paint dry.

Chester King, a distinguished gentleman approaching his early eighties, is sharp and agile like a man half his age. Eggsy reckons that his new boss isn’t very fond of him and recalls the first time they met. Chester had looked at him over the tops of his glasses as if Eggsy was a second-class citizen.

It doesn’t matter to him that the young man has an impressive educational background and portfolio, nor that he’s interned with RMJM and Aedas, then was hired at the latter seconds after completing his master’s. Forget his First Class honors, awards, and excellent references - Eggsy is neither from a prestigious family or background.

“Today Mr. Gary Unwin joins us from Aedas,” Chester announces to the staff. He finds Eggsy in the crowd and motions him to stands, much to his dismay. “Ah, there he is. Don’t be shy, young man. He is our newest _level one_ architect with a specialty in sustainability _and_ building information modeling. Sounds quite industrious, Mr. Unwin.”

Eggsy feels his cheeks burning, even as he makes eye contact with Merlin. “Thank you, Mr. King,” he says politely before taking a seat. He releases a ragged breath as the door to the conference room opens.

“Late, as usual, Harry,” Chester grumbles.

He notices how he’s the only one who turns to see the latest addition to the meeting come sauntering in without a care.

And _who_ Eggsy sees is a truly beautiful specimen of a male human being. Like —beyond all of his comprehension.

Harry Hart is all long limbs hidden under tailored trousers, a button-down shirt, and an opened blazer. He carries his satchel under one arm and the morning paper in the other while he drinks from a Starbucks coffee cup. His hair is wind-blown by the tubes, no doubt, and wavy, and his dark eyes are hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

He seems oblivious to the interruption he’s caused as he goes to take a seat next to Merlin who is trying to suppress his laughter.

It should be illegal for someone to look that bloody good.

“Harry!” Chester bellows, his face turning pink.

The man looks up all innocent. “Yes Chester?” he inquires, voice like a damn angel.

“You’re late,” the older man tells him.

Harry glances down at his watch, raising both brows much to the amusement of the other staff. A ripple of soft laughter fills the room. “So I am,” he admits. “Terribly sorry. What did I miss?”

“The principal’s meeting, for one!”

Eggsy watches Harry shrug and turn to Merlin. “Did anything interesting happen?” he asks.

“I will fill you in later,” Merlin assures, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Chester gestures wildly to Eggsy. “And we have a new employee,” he snaps.

Harry cranes his neck. “Oh? Do we?”

“Gary,” Chester calls, motioning for Eggsy to stand up again.

He does because he doesn’t know what else to do. Plus, Eggsy really doesn’t want to be in the middle of a principal turf war on his very first day, let alone his first _two hours_ at Kingsman Engineers. He feels Harry’s eyes on him as he stands and how it makes his knees shake.

Merlin whispers something to Harry and recognition crosses over the man’s face. It’s soft and warm, like a cup of tea after a long day. “Well, don’t be late to staff meetings and you should be just fine,” Harry tells him with a smug grin and a wink.

“Thank you, sir,” Eggsy replies as he sinks back down in his seat, baffled and so hopelessly _fucked_.

With a capital F.

 

* * *

 

His first week goes by in an exhausting whirlwind, as most usually do, and ends with a happy hour which most of the firm partakes in.

Even Charlie and his cronies—Digby, Nathaniel, Piers, and Hugo—join them for a bit, snickering and glaring at Eggsy from across the pub while he enjoys himself.

“See,” Merlin says over a pint. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He shakes his head. “Not really,” he agrees as Percy slides a tequila shot across the bar top and shouts at Merlin, asking if he wants one.

“I’ll take his,” Harry replies, setting his satchel down next to Merlin and clapping him on the shoulder. He gives Eggsy a devastating smile that he feels all the way down to his toes. “Hamish hasn’t been able to stomach tequila since our third year at Cambridge.”

The young man’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Oh, _really_ ,” he teases, nudging Merlin with his beer mug. “I want to hear this.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Merlin begs, his ears turning pink.

“Oh, please _do_ ,” Eggsy pleads. He leans behind his mentor and pats his back. “This one always chastises me when I go out with my mates, he does. Says I ought to devote more time to my studies.”

Harry lets out a bark of laughter as he’s passed a shot and a beer. He and Eggsy clink their shot glasses with James and Percy, then down them—wincing all the while. “You should know that it difficult to get _this one_ to studio,” he confides, flicking Merlin in the shoulder.

“Oi!” the man snaps. “Watch it, you tit!”

Eggsy laughs and laughs until his eyes are watery and he’s been handed another shot. “Nah, I want to get home in one piece,” he says. “Besides, I’m knackered and my roommates are out of town for the weekend. Damn miracle, let me tell you!”

“One more shot won’t kill you, Eggy,” Charlie comments, his smile slippery like an eel.

“Eggy?” Harry questions as Merlin snaps, “That’s _enough_ , Hesketh! Don’t you have some club in Mayfair to get thrown out of?”

Charlie frowns. “Come on, lads,” he grumbles to his friends. “This party is lame.”

“I wouldn’t mind kicking his face in,” Merlin declares as they watch Charlie and company leave. He turns to Eggsy, giving his neck a comforting squeeze. “You good?”

He nods, not wanting to meet his mentor’s eyes. “Fine,” he replies, tracing the opening of his bottle. “Is he always like that?”

“Charlie doesn’t like competition,” Harry interjects. “And _only_ Chester likes Charlie.” He drinks some of his beer before confusion overcomes his face. “Why on Earth did he call you Eggy?”

Later, when Eggsy has showered and tucked himself into the warmth of his bed, he reckons that he may have a bit of a crush on Mr. Harry Hart.

But only a bit, because anything more than that would be silly, and it isn’t that type of movie, bruv.

 

* * *

 

“You can stop gawking, you know,” Roxy whispers over their work table sometime during the third month of his employment.

Eggsy nearly slices an exacto blade into the tip of his finger rather than the board under his hands. “Oi!” he hisses, turning a truly delightful shade of pink judging by the dimpled grin on Roxy’s face. He clears his throat, frowning. “Wasn’t gapin’, besides.”

“Right,” she says. “You ought to remember the no dating clause Chester strictly enforces.”

They turn their heads to observe Harry and Merlin, who happen to be chatting in the latter’s office. Harry Hart and his fucking perfect body with his sleeves rolled up his strong arms and an arse that Eggsy wants to grab with his hands.

And that damned mouth that he’s pictured wrapped around his cock at night rather than his own hand.

Or those thick fingers digging into Eggsy’s hips as he fucks him from behind, whispering in that lovely voice of his.

He rolls his eyes, making a very precise cut without endangering his fingers. “I remember,” Eggsy lies because no— _no_ —he fucking doesn’t. Eggsy didn’t bother reading the bloody employee handbook—thick like the _Encyclopedia Britannica_ , it is—because who actually does (besides Charlie, the louse).

Not that it matters because he’s absolutely certain that Harry Hart, the walking wet dream, has some pretty bird or bloke waiting for him at home. Someone who is more age-appropriate than Eggsy’s twenty-five years and knows the difference between Prada and Gucci.

“Why does he enforce it again?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

Roxy tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “He met his second wife while she was a secretary here. When they divorced, she got thirty percentage ownership of the company.”

“Now you’re just takin’ the piss!” Eggsy gasps, eyes wide.

She shakes her head. “Honest. You can ask Merlin about it, if you’d like.”

“Bloody hell,” he whispers. “I would almost feel bad for the man, if he weren’t such a prat like his nephew.”

Roxy’s giggling makes him smile. “Don’t feel too bad for him,” she whispers back.

“That’s a fairly easy task,” Eggsy replies, shrugging. He leans down at eye level with the board and goes about making marks with a pencil.

They continue to work in a companionable silence, neither of them noticing Merlin and Harry leaving for a conference room where the projector is set up along with refreshments.

However, the loud voice of an American male pulls Eggsy out of his headspace. He glances up from his work to see Chester laughing with a man wearing a bright orange baseball cap, accompanying jacket, a garish popped collar polo, and blue jeans. An attractive woman follows behind them, typing away on her iPad and ignoring Charlie, who is desperately trying to chat her up.

“Who’s that?” Eggsy asks, reaching for his glasses and puts them on.

Roxy stands on her tiptoes for a better view and pulls an impressed face. “Richmond Valentine,” she answers. “He’s a semiconductors billionaire, and rumor has it he’s looking to build a European headquarters. Everyone’s after the contract.”

“And Charlie’s in the meeting?” he scoffs, his mouth turned down. “Nepotism at it’s finest, yeah?”

“Do you have experience with large-scale office campuses?”

Eggsy shrugs. “Commercial buildings, but I reckon it’s more than _Prince Charlie_ ,” he admits bitterly, watching as Valentine shakes hands with Merlin, Harry, and several other engineers who have joined the meeting.

They all take a seat at the table after pouring themselves refreshments and turn their attention to the projection screen, where the Kingsman logo sits in the center surrounded by black. It is joined by Valentine’s logo and the presentation has begun, led by Harry and Merlin.

Over the course of an hour, Eggsy is distracted by the ongoings from the conference room. Richmond Valentine has a Zen quality about him while he listens, pressing his hands together in a prayer pose. When he asks questions, he becomes excitable like a child, gesturing wildly and voice coming through the glass walls.

His assistant is cool and calm, asking several questions of her own and taking notes.

The east facing façade comes on screen and Eggsy winces, immediately noticing that the executive office will be boiling hot before Valentine even steps foot inside.

Apparently, so has the billionaire, judging by his frown.

Setting down his exacto blade, Eggsy rushes over to the conference room and taps on the door, giving Merlin a jaunty wave before opening the door.

“What is it, Eggy?” Charlie snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

Valentine and his assistant look at him. “Eggy?” the man asks. “What the _fuck_ is an Eggy?”

“I am,” Eggsy says. “Gary Unwin, sir. I noticed a design flaw with the east façade.”

“You mean the fucking oven they call my office?” Valentine says, dubiously.

He tries and fails not to grin. “Ah, that would be it, sir,” Eggsy replies. “I have a solution for that.”

“Which would tack on several million pounds, I’m sure,” Chester mutters as the young man walks over to Harry.

Eggsy ignores the comment. “Mind if I borrow this?” he asks, indicating his tablet and its pen.

“Go ahead,” Harry tells him, handing the items over.

He walks over to Valentine and his assistant. “This is something you could for both the east _and_ west façades of the building,” Eggsy explains as he begins to draw on the rendering.

“I’m listening,” Valentine says.

“This is a vertical fin screening system,” Eggsy tells him once he’s done and reveals what he’s added. “It’s designed for concealment of a structure while providing natural ventilation and solar shading, which is what you want. It’s lightweight, affordable, and should only add perhaps several hundred thousand pounds to the design cost.”

Valentine and his assistant peer over the tablet screen, glancing at each other every so often. “It looks like fish fins,” she says in a lightly accented voice, offering him a tight smile.

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” Charlie grumbles.

Eggsy feels his stomach clench and begins to wonder if he has made a huge mistake. His palms begin to sweat, which will only be followed by his temples.

“I fucking love it!” Valentine declares, clapping his hands. “I reminds of that cartoon with the baby and the monsters and the closet doors.” He taps his assistant’s arm. “You know, Gazelle—that baby who runs around calling John Goodman kitty!”

She smiles. “You mean _Monsters, Inc._ ”

“Yeah! I fucking _love_ that movie!” he exclaims, drumming his hands on the table.

Eggsy tilts his head, trying to see it. “I was thinking more along the lines of _A Clockwork Orange_ ,” he says, a bit confused. “Perhaps _2001: A Space Odyssey_.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that is,” Valentine tells him. He looks up at Eggsy. “What’s your name again?”

“Unwin,” he stutters, nearly whispering. “Gary Unwin.”

Harry steps in, saving Eggsy from further embarrassment. “Mr. Unwin is our newest level one architect. He recently joined us from Aedas.”

“Don’t care!” Valentine says dismissively as he points to Eggsy. “I want _him_ instead of _him_.” The billionaire moves his finger to Charlie.

He makes a noise of protest, his eyes shifting to Charlie who looks positively enraged. “But, sir,” Eggsy tries to say.

“If I am hearing you correctly,” Chester replies quite carefully, “you will give us the design contract if I switch out Charlie for Gary?”

Valentine and his assistant—Gazelle, apparently—exchange another look and then nod. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying.”

Well, fuck if that ain’t a plot twist.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy secludes himself in the men’s lavatory while Charlie whines and bitches in his uncle’s office.

He’s being generous with the term and has actually locked himself inside a stall, hugging his knees to his chest while he stares at the door. A cold sweat makes his skin sticky and Eggsy swears if he moves an iota, he may be sick.

When he walked into the conference, Eggsy never had the intention to _be_ on the project, let alone steal it out from under Charlie. All he wanted to do was suggest something he knew about —something he studied and could do in his sleep—and possibly show everyone what an unqualified twat his colleague was.

The door to the lavatory opens and foot falls come after.

“Eggsy?” It’s Merlin, thank Christ. If it was someone else, like Harry or Chester, or worse, _Charlie_ , he’d have to pretend he wasn’t here. “Are you going to come out?”

He shifts, feeling a twinge in his back. “Is Charlie still havin’ it out with his uncle?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Merlin answers.

Eggsy swallows, dropping his head against the stall. “I’m goin’ to stay here, thanks.”

“You can’t stay in there all night,” Merlin tells him, trying to figure out which stall he’s hiding in.

“Oi! I am deeply offended that you’re underestimating my ability to avoid confrontation like the plague, mate,” Eggsy retorts, pouting.

The stall door rattles as Merlin’s knuckles rapt on it. “You’ll need to go home at some point, lad.”

“The tile is very comfortable. You’d be surprised.”

Merlin groans. “I _know_ ,” he grumbles. “I picked it out during the remodel. Now _come out_ here, you little berk!”

“Rather not,” Eggsy says, flicking a piece of lint off his jeans.

“I have a screwdriver and I am not above using it, Gary Unwin!” his mentor threatens, banging on the door.

Eggsy scrambles to his feet in an instant, not wanting to temper Merlin’s good graces, and opens the stall only to find that he’s been duped as the older man drags him out of the bathroom. “That’s cheating!” he yells. “You’s a right arsehole, Merlin! Do you even know how to use a screwdriver?”

“Of course,” his mentor scoffs, glaring at him as they cross the empty floor and go into his office. He deposits Eggsy into a chair and shuts the door. “Congratulations, you have managed to assist Harry and me in landing a multi-billion dollar contract with the Valentine Corporation.”

His jaw goes slack. “Did you say…” Eggsy stammers.

“Yes,” Merlin replies, nodding. “Richmond Valentine’s legal department is forwarding the contract over tomorrow morning.”

“Roxy said that it was just a bunch of rumors!”

The older man laughs as he leans against the edge of his desk. “Most of these things are,” Merlin assures. “With that said, I originally wanted you on the project, but Charlie got wind of it and complained to Chester before I could ask you.”

“I’m just a level one architect,” Eggsy tells him, still baffled. “Charlie has loads more experience than me and—”

Merlin shakes his head. “And considerably less talent. And knowledge, for that matter. He can’t think outside of the box, nor can he think on his feet, which you demonstrated quite flawlessly during today’s meeting.”

“I didn’t mean to give Charlie the boot!” Eggsy counters, slouching in his seat. “Bloody hell! Who doesn’t put up something to deflect the sun in the first place? It’s fucking amateur hour.”

Someone knocks on the door and Merlin gestures for them to come in. “Have I come at a bad time?” Harry inquires. “Evening, Gary. I take it that you’ve heard the good news?”

“He’s still a bit beside himself,” Merlin tells him, turning his stare to Eggsy. “So you’re on the project team, then?”

Eggsy shifts his eyes between his mentor and the object of his masturbatory fantasies. He can definitely do this - work late nights and early hours, go to site walks, and more meetings than he can count.

If it means spending more time with Harry and listening to his dry wit and catching a whiff of his cologne every now and again, so be it. Eggsy can suck it up.

He can _totally_ suck it up even if he wants to actually to be doing it to Harry’s cock. Same difference.

“Yeah,” Eggsy answers. “Sounds great.”

God, sometimes he wishes he would learn to keep his fucking mouth shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Eggsy texts Roxy as soon as he leaves work because they’ve developed some sort of best work mates sort of relationship.

And she’s aces.

Roxy meets him at a pub that’s somewhat midway between their flats and orders a glass of wine while Eggsy presses his head against his messenger bag. “This is a great opportunity,” she tells him. “It could really jump-start your career, not to mention get Chester to realize what a pompous arse his nephew truly is.”

“I know,” Eggsy groans, feeling the sting of a buckle against his forehead. He props his chin upon his forearms and huffs a sigh. “I _know_ ‘bout all this.”

Roxy is sipping her wine, white by the looks of it, and sets the glass down on the table. “So what’s the problem?”

“Besides being on Charlie’s shitlist until the end of time?” Eggsy questions. He leans back into the booth, taking his beer with him. “I’ll have to work with a bloke that I’d never be able to have because our boss is a crazy old coot who doesn’t want anyone to be happy _or_ pull for that matter.”

He ignores Roxy’s laughter as he drinks down the rest of his beer and orders another because fuck it. “I’m so fucked,” Eggsy whines once it’s been set down on their table.

“You could always woo him with that roguish charm of yours,” Roxy suggests while perusing the menu. “Want to split some chips and a Stilton plate?”

Eggsy blinks at her. “Pardon me, but did I hear you mention pub food?” he teases.

“I may be posh, but never one to turn down good food,” she fires back as the waiter approaches them. With a demure smile, Roxy orders aforementioned dishes and a Guinness. “Don’t look so shocked, Unwin.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Not shocked, just in awe,” Eggsy says. “ _Respectful_ awe.”

“Not sure what to make of that,” Roxy admits, tilting her head. “Tell me something about you, then.”

Eggsy shrugs. “Like what?”

“Your favorite film for instance,” Roxy supplies. She studies him for a bit and grins. “Let me guess— _Star Wars_ , but only the original trilogy.”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “While I appreciate the classics, you ought to go back a decade.”

“Really?” She frowns in thought, pursing her lips. “James Bond?”

Another head shake. “Add two years and an entirely different genre,” Eggsy says, adding a cheeky grin. “Let me know when you give up.”

“Never!” Roxy cries, dismayed that he would even suggest a thing. “Proper Britons do not give up when faced with adversity.”

“What about the 1842 retreat from Kabul?” Eggsy questions before drowning his sorrows in his beer.

She smirks. “Are you certain that your parents didn’t call you Eggsy because you’re an egghead?” Roxy teases, nudging his shin with the tip of her loafer.

“Nah, they weren’t ‘round by the time my marks counted,” he replies.

“You hardly talk about them,” she comments. “Too uncomfortable?”

Eggsy shrugs. “I don’t remember much ‘bout them,” he admits. “Just vague memories and such, bein’ so young and all.”

“Didn’t your grandparents tell your stories?”

“Subject change,” Eggsy declares, suddenly, as their food arrives and is set down on the table. “What is _your_ favorite film, Ms. Morton?”

Roxy knows what he’s playing, but says nothing. “ _Mulan_ ,” she replies before popping a chip into her mouth.

“Are you jokin’?” he asks while pouring ketchup onto his plate. Eggsy watches as Roxy shakes her head. “You and I ought to have a movie night.”

Puzzled, his colleague raises a brow. “Why?”

“My favorite film is _My Fair Lady_ ,” he replies, snatching a chip from her fingers and enjoying the astonishment on Roxy’s face.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy finds himself in the bathroom and having a pep talk at seven in the morning before he leaves for work.

Never mind that he and Roxy ended up going back to his flat where they ended up joining Ryan and Jamal’s alcohol-fueled Grand Theft Auto tournament and that he’s seriously hanging right about now. Eggsy’s head feels like it may fall the fuck off and his mouth tastes like moth balls despite gargling Listerine and brushing.

It’s his first day on the Valentine project, meaning his first day working alongside Harry _sex on a stick_ Hart. They will be in close proximity to each other, not just a hello in passing or a cordial wave during meetings.

Eggsy will need to speak to him. “Shit,” he groans as his phone pings, causing him to wince.

It’s Roxy, the jerk, and she is promising him a breakfast sandwich with coffee if he shows his face at the office. How she’s even seeing straight is beyond Eggsy’s comprehension and he’s certain that his colleague has made a pact with the devil.

 _Only if it has bacon_ , he types back.

She replies moments later. _What kind of person would I be if it didn’t?_

As he takes the tube to work, Eggsy decides that Roxy plays dirty and missed her calling as an interrogator. “You are an angel, you are!” he declares as he finds her standing outside the entrance holding the promised items in her hands.

Roxy looks like a million bucks, of course. “May I get that in writing?” she inquires.

Eggsy nods fervently as he’s already demolishing his breakfast sandwich like the world is ending. “Bloody hell, this is aces! Real bacon, Rox! I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t,” she begs, wiping a crumb from his chin. “Just remember to invite me over to your flat the next time you and the lads are going to play video games.”

“Done and done,” Eggsy agrees, slinging an arm around Roxy’s shoulders while they walk down the street towards their office. “God, I could marry this sandwich!”

Roxy pulls a face. “I wonder what Harry Hart would have to say about that,” she whispers into the shell of his ear with a laugh.

“Hush, you,” Eggsy grouses. “And lemme eat this in peace, yeah?”

By the time they arrive at their desks, the sandwich is settling in his stomach while Eggsy sings Roxy’s praises throughout the office, much to everyone’s amusement.

“I swear on the Queen, herself, that this breakfast cured me,” he tells Percy, who is just coming back from the galley with some tea. “Your sister is an angel of mercy, she is!”

Roxy is now blushing scarlet while her brother winks over the rim of his mug. “Well, now you how to get Unwin here to do your bidding,” Percy tells her in a stage whisper.

“Hey now!” Eggsy scoffs. “I’m ain’t _that_ easily won over! You’s got to get the extra crispy bacon; none of this rubbery shit.”

Both Morton siblings exchange a knowing look. “He has high standards, that Eggsy Unwin,” Roxy tells Percy. “Hello, Merlin!”

Eggsy turns his head to see his boss waving as he ducks into his office to dump his things unceremoniously onto a chair. “Aren’t you rather chipper?”

“Coffee,” Merlin grumbles, brushing by Eggsy and heading towards the galley.

“Has he _always_ been like that?” Percy asks as all of them watch their boss’ retreating figure.

Two pairs of warm brown eyes turn upon him and Eggsy shrugs, affirming his answer as he sips remnants of his coffee. “When he stays out all night, he’s always grumpy the next morning.”

“Then Merlin must stay out every night,” Percy says in amazement.

He shares a smirk with Roxy and goes to turn around only to find himself bumping into Charlie and Charlie’s open cup of coffee that ends up on his trousers. “Come on, then!” he growls over the sound of the prat and his friends’ laughter.

“Eggsy,” Roxy says, jumping between him and Charlie. “Forget it!”

Charlie sneers, causing his face to look even more rodent-like if that was even possible. “Oh, what’s wrong, mate? It was just an accident, yeah?”

“I’ll show you an accident when my fist slips and ends up in your face,” Eggsy hisses, lunging towards Charlie, who pales and inches back.

“Seriously,” Roxy whispers, placing a hand on his shoulder, “he’s not worth it.”

Eggsy inhales sharply, feeling the sting through his nostrils. “Maybe I don’t give a fuck if he’s worth it or not,” he tells her.

“Do it!” Charlie challenges, grinning. “Come on, you pleb.”

Roxy whirls around, shoving him backward. “Charlie, fuck off!”

“Yeah,” Eggsy chimes in. “Go on, walk away, dickhead! Before I manage to take another project away from you.”

Charlie raises a finger, pointing it at him. “Watch who you’re mouthing off to, pleb!”

“Oi!” Merlin bellows, having come back with a mug of coffee and a frown creasing his face. “What the fuck is going on here?” He looks at the state of Eggsy’s trousers. “What on earth happened to you?” He turns back to Charlie and makes a disappointed sound. “This isn’t Eton, Hesketh.”

The lad rolls his eyes. “Of course it isn’t,” he grouses, gesturing rudely at Eggsy. “They wouldn’t even let this charity case through the front gate.”

“Kind of like how your uncle had to pull favors to get you into Oxford because you couldn’t even make the waitlist?” Merlin fires back, grabbing him by the elbow and hauling him towards Chester’s office. “Everyone back to work and Unwin, get cleaned up. We have a kick-off meeting at half ten.”

Eggsy feels his cheeks burning because he knows Merlin is pissed; using his surname is a major indication.

Turning on his heel, he heads towards the lavatory, thanking his good luck that he wore dark trousers today and Charlie only thought to use minimal amounts of cream with the coffee he chucked at him.

“Sodding bastard,” Eggsy mumbles when he’s finally in front of the sink and running water from the faucet. He grabs some paper towels. “Rodent.”

A toilet flushes, followed by a stall door opening. “I hope you weren’t speaking about me,” Harry says as he comes outside. He’s all dapper in slacks, a jumper, and a collared shirt underneath - sans glasses. “It’s barely ten, after all.”

“Not you,” Eggsy mumbles as he dabs the towels under the water and begins rubbing them against the material of his trousers. He’s so livid that he forgets his nervousness around the principal. “Charlie.”

Harry comes up alongside him, eyeing the damage done to the younger man’s clothing. “I see,” he comments, sounding unimpressed.

“I don’t reckon you do,” Eggsy says. “All them arseholes with silver spoons in their mouths think they can do whatever and push around us poor folk. People like Charlie don’t know what it’s like to have to scrape by on nothin’ with nobody around to help.” He rubs harder, creating flakey paper debris from the towel. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Harry goes to wash his hands and dry them off in silence. “Have you seen the film _Trading Places_?”

Eggsy glances at him. “No.”

“ _Nikita_?” the older man asks, to which he shakes his head. Harry purses his lips together in a lovely line while he takes this information into deep consideration. “ _Pretty Woman_?”

None of these ring a bell and Eggsy reckons he’ll need to ask Roxy about them later. He raises a brow in confusion and shrugs.

“Alright. My point is that the lack of a silver spoon has set you on a certain path, but you didn’t stay on it,” Harry explains as he grabs a paper towel and squeezes a pump or two of liquid soap onto it. “You saw your potential and you wanted to do something good with your life. You adapted and learned, and in the end, you transformed.”

Harry hands him the towel when it dawns on Eggsy what he’s referring to. “Oh, like in _My Fair Lady_ ,” he says, thoroughly stunning the older man.

“You’re full of surprises,” Harry replies, smiling. His eyes glint richly under the soft yellow lights of the lavatory as if he’s truly seeing Eggsy for the first time. Not that Harry hasn’t paid attention to him before - it’s just there’s something different about his rich brown gaze.

“Yes, like _My Fair Lady_. Only in this case, I’m going to offer you a piece of advice; people like Charlie know how extraordinary you are and they are frightened by it—keep them on their toes.” He pats Eggsy on the shoulder and goes to leave. As he opens the door, Harry stops. “And use soap instead of water. It will help remove the stain more easily.”

 

* * *

 

Talking to Harry becomes much easier from that.

Eggsy finds he can form complete sentences without stammering or blushing (or sometimes both, which Roxy assures is quite endearing) and even joke with the structural engineering principal.

He’ll never be able to quell the flutter in his stomach whenever he’s near Harry, but at least Eggsy can fake it like the best of them.

It doesn’t stop him from imagining that instead of offering a soap-soaked paper towel, Harry gets to his knees and unzips Eggsy’s trousers. His warm hands remove his cock from the confines of clothing, giving it a few leisurely strokes. “Do you think we could be done before the kick-off meeting?” fantasy Harry inquires, looking up at him with lust darkened eyes.

He never waits for Eggsy to answer and swallows down his length while thick hands dig into the meat of his hips, holding him in place. Harry’s mouth is heavenly; all spongy, slick heat that seems to know Eggsy’s body better than he does.

His tongue is drives the words from the young man’s mouth, only rousing a series of ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ from his lips. It may only be his own hand with some lube, but Eggsy can dream, can’t he?

So what if he ends up having to muffle his cries by biting down on the fabric of his pillow when his orgasm comes in waves? Or that his hips move on their own accord, rocking with each spurt of semen against his bare skin until he’s wrung out and breathless in his bed?

It’s not like Harry can tell when they work side-by-side or when he stands over Eggsy’s shoulder as he and Merlin review the computerized model the young man has been editing for the next meeting with the ever-eccentric Valentine.

Or maybe he can and he’s too polite to say anything about the way Eggsy stares at his ass.

“Are you objectifying our structural principal?” Merlin questions one evening.

He nearly chokes on a piece of curried chicken and begins thumping his chest, wheezing all the while. “Warn a bloke,” Eggsy coughs. “And _no_ , I am not!”

“You’re a terrible liar,” his friend tells him.

Eggsy glares something furious. “And you’re tryn’a kill me, mate!”

Merlin shrugs it off and goes back to his meal of saag paneer. “Just pointing out the obvious,” he says, adjusting the carriage of his body on the table. “Don’t worry; no one else has noticed.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Eggsy mumbles, setting down his takeaway box.

“Pass it over here, then,” Merlin orders. “I’m famished, barely left this bloody room all day! What time is it anyways?” He squints up at the wall clock, unable to make out the numbers as his glasses rest beside his thigh.

Eggsy lifts his phone. “Nearly eleven,” he yawns as he pillows his head in his arms and shuts his eyes. “May as well bring a sleeping bag and my pillow.”

“Little shit,” his boss huffs. “I daresay you’ve dealt with worse at university.”

“At least I had access to your guest room,” Eggsy counters.

The door to the conference room opens. “Oh dear,” he hears Harry saying, amusement warming his voice. “It seems we’ve got a man down.”

“Nah, takin’ a breather is all,” Eggsy assures while Merlin starts poking him in the side. He bats his boss’ foot away. “Oi! Watch it!”

Merlin chuckles. “Past someone’s bedtime,” he teases, looking quite pleased with himself as he digs into Eggsy’s discarded curried chicken.

“Well you’ll be pleased to know that we can all go home,” Harry sighs, rubbing his temples. “I received a notification from Gazelle that our documentation was successfully uploaded onto the Valentine Corporation server for their review.”

Eggsy releases a grateful sigh. “Thank fuck,” he mumbles, popping his head up to dig the heel of his palms into his eyes. Phosphene flashes against the darkness in a variety of colors.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, lad,” Merlin snorts.

The young man glares at him, watching as his boss hops off the table and begins to gather his things. “Says the one who’s going to be out the door first.”

“I’ve put in my dues,” the older man counters, shrugging on his jacket before scrounging up his takeaway boxes with a smirk. “You’ll be doing the exact same thing to some level one architect in about fifteen years, don’t you worry. See you both in the morning!”

Eggsy watches him sauntering off like a school boy who’s going on summer break. “Look at that wanker,” he grouses. “Leaving like he owns the place!”

Harry’s laughter fills the room and his groin with a slow-moving warmth, balmy like a late summer’s evening. When Eggsy turns, the corner of the older man’s eyes are crinkled as he smiles; not one of his grins—which are quite exquisite in their own way—but truly beaming.

It lights up his entire face, from chin to where Harry’s dark brown locks sprout from his scalp and begin to curl over his forehead. A pair of dimples appear near the vertical lines of his mouth, so slight and delectable. If Eggsy were bold enough, he would crawl over the table and pepper them with attention by way of his lips and tongue.

“In any case, Hamish seems to have the right idea,” Harry says, voice holding the last vestiges of chuckling. “Shall we pack up?”

They tidy up the conference room and go about packing up their belongings. Eggsy removes his battered Oyster card from his wallet and slips it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“You’re going to take the tube this late at night?” Harry comments while zipping up his satchel.

Nodding, Eggsy slips on his jacket. “Gotta get home somehow, guv.”

“It’s nearly midnight!” the older man exclaims, clearly bothered that the architect would even suggest such a thing. “Not to mention, you were falling asleep just minutes ago.”

He shrugs. “And?” Eggsy questions as he straps on his messenger bag. “I’m a big boy if you haven’t noticed. I can find my way home.”

“Nonsense,” Harry declares quite glibly in Eggsy’s opinion. “I’ll drive you.”

“The tube is _literally_ around the corner,” he counters, gesturing.

Harry isn’t having any of it. “My car is closer. Come along.”

They close up the office on their way out, turning down the lights and locking up the front doors. The cool night has a fine sheen of mist that dampens the pavement and Harry’s pristine Jaguar XE S-model sitting in the parking lot.

“Bloody hell,” Eggsy gasps, stumbling over his feet. He turns to his colleague. “You sure you want me in that? May depreciate its value, guv.”

Harry rolls his eyes while digging his keys out of his pocket. He clicks on the fancy remote and the car beeps at them. “Get in, you little cheeky shit,” he retorts.

The seats are a buttery leather and feel heavenly against Eggsy’s body. He suppresses a groan as he drops his bag onto the floor, scoping out the rest of the Jaguar’s interior.

His fingers find the seat belt buckle and locks himself in while Harry does the same. He is peering into the back when the engine starts and a woman’s operatic voice drifts out of the speakers. “Oi, is this from _Carmen_?” Eggsy inquires, glancing at Harry.

“It’s from Maria Callas’ best of album, but yes it’s _Les tringles des sistres tintaient_ ,” he replies. “I am surprised you are familiar with opera.”

“Merlin liked to torture me with it when I was studyin’ at his house,” Eggsy explains, smirking. “And I may be rough, but I ain’t uncultured, bruv.”

Harry smirks back. “I never implied such a thing. What is your address so I can punch it into the navigation?”

Eggsy notices that his colleague doesn’t even bat an eye when he recites where his flat is located. It’s not the most respectful area, nor the dodgiest, though he is certain that someone like Harry Hart would normally stay clear of his neighborhood.

“Do you live alone?” Harry asks as they pull out of the lot.

He shakes his head. “Got two flatmates,” Eggsy says. “Ryan and Jamal, known them since my first day of sixth form.”

“Did they go the Bartlett with you?”

Eggsy chuckles. “God no!” he answers, relaxing into his seat and closing his eyes. “Those two knuckleheads went to University of London after fuckin’ off in Ibiza for their gap year.”

“You didn’t go with them, I take it?” Harry reckons, to which Eggsy makes a sound of agreement. “Your parents wanted you to go university straight away?”

He cracks an eye open, followed by the other. “My parents are dead, bruv,” the young man states, tilting his head at the same time Harry draws in a sharp intake of breath. “Thought Merlin would have said somethin’.”

“He did not,” the older man replies over Maria Callas’ bel canto soprano. Harry glances at Eggsy. “My apologies.”

Eggsy shrugs, shutting his eyes once more. “You ain’t the one who killed ‘em.” His words, no matter how truthful, creates an overbearing silence in the car that lulls him to sleep in company of opera music and the steady hum of the Jaguar’s engine.

He’s too exhausted to even dream, let alone feel the discomfort of falling asleep in a car seat or the press of the window against his cheek. At least there’s one more day until the weekend and with any luck, Merlin will allow him a half day at the office before telling him to fuck off home.

Eggsy barely realizes that someone is gently shaking him awake until Harry’s baritone utters his name into the shell of his ear. The gush of air tickles the peach fuzz on his tragus, slowly dancing him back to consciousness. He blinks and is surprised to be no longer against the window, but leaning over the empty cup holders in the middle column.

“Wassit?” he mumbles, palming one side of his face. Eggsy turns to find himself dangerously close to Harry’s face.

He can spy each and every spec of the older man’s five o’clock shadow, his eyes following its path until he’s staring into the dark sea of Harry’s irises, even under the streetlamp.

They are terribly close—centimeters really—and there is something brewing between them, a certain restlessness that Eggsy cannot discern.

“We’ve arrived at your flat,” Harry tells him, his person still lingering in close proximity to Eggsy’s. Half hidden by shadows, he smiles.

Eggsy slowly nods in agreement, recognizing the façade of his building even in the downpour of rain that’s apparently begun. It’s then he hears a different genre of music. “Never took you for a fan of electronica,” Eggsy comments as a man’s voice sings melancholy lyrics over string samples and piano rhythms.

“I find Moby quite soothing,” Harry says, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face as he moves just a bit closer.

Eggsy snorts. “Don’t tell Merlin that he’s not the only bald bloke in your life,” he teases. “I reckon—”

He never finishes his thought, for it is lost upon the first touch of Harry’s lips against his own. Fingers are cautiously pressed into the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. Eggsy groans, unable to resist the surge of want to taste Harry upon his tongue.

Frissons of arousal race up and down his spine as the older man deepens his ministrations, brushing his tongue against Eggsy’s bottom lip. It’s the softest of movements—neither rushed or forceful—and he sighs into it, his entire body melting into the curve of Harry’s.

His fingers trail along the object of his desire’s jaw until Eggsy feels bold enough to caress it with his thumb. He feels a shiver run from Harry into him and latches onto his colleague with both hands. The air moves and his seat belt is undone followed by a click.

Harry tugs on him, his large hands holding onto Eggsy’s thighs and moving in slow circles against the material of his trousers while their kiss grows hungrier, deeper. It tastes of Indian takeaway and an indefinable flavor that is singularly Harry.

By the time both of them come to their senses and realize they are in a car, for Christ’s sake, Eggsy is under Harry with puffy lips and the gentleman’s fingertips teasing the skin of his stomach. His glasses are precariously balanced on the tip of the older man’s nose, allowing him to see the pure want swirling in the depths of brown eyes.

“It’s getting late,” Harry whispers.

Eggsy nods, not bothering to look at the clock display on the dashboard. “Yeah, right,” he whispers back, licking his lips. “We have work tomorrow.”

“Regrettably, yes,” he hears his colleague reply as his weight is lifted and he returns to the driver’s seat. Harry pushes his glasses back in place.

The silence between them is overwhelming and Eggsy wishes he would say _something_ while they each put themselves back together again. He turns to Harry, staring at his profile in the poor lighting. “So,” he says.

“See you tomorrow,” Harry tells him, staring straight ahead.

“Thanks for the ride,” Eggsy forces himself to respond with a wan smile and lets himself out, feeling defeated.

 

* * *

 

So they begin to dance around one another.

Correction: Harry begins to dance around Eggsy as if he’s bloody Mikhail Baryshnikov and the young man is just a member of the corps de ballet. He don’t know, he’s no ballerino and never has been; either way, Eggsy is frustrated by the one-eighty his colleague has done.

He can’t say anything, of course, because Eggsy isn’t one to grass folks or share details of his life. Ever since he was a kid, he’s been fairly tight-lipped and while some friends—like Ryan and Jamal, bless their idiotic hearts—have grown to accept it, others get annoyed.

Then there are some, like Merlin and Roxy, who notice a ripple in the air surrounding the young man, but say nothing about it.

Eggsy feigns complete and utter politeness. He does his work, attends all meetings, including the one he is currently sitting in right now.

Richmond Valentine is a shit show of mauves, lilacs, and lavenders over another pair of denims and topped off with a loud purple baseball cap. A long pukka shell necklace—like the ones the chaps from the Geordie Shore are fond of—hangs from his neck. He looks ridiculous, but Eggsy reckons he’s wealthy (and neurotic) enough to get away with it.

Gazelle sits at his six, demure in a tasteful sheath dress with some sort of grey plaid design in the front. She is typing away on her tablet and ignoring her boss.

“So,” Merlin says, exasperated as he pulls up his iPad screen onto the main projector. “We have narrowed down several locations that would suit your company’s purposes for a European expansion.”

Valentine giggles like a schoolboy, clapping his hands and everything. “Can’t wait! Show me what you got, Mr. Merlin!”

Eggsy glances at his boss, noticing how the corner of his eye twitches. “Alright,” Merlin begins, pulling up a Google map of the Parisian banlieue of Bondy. “First up is Bondy, located just under seven kilometers from Paris.”

“No,” Valentine declares immediately, shaking his head.

Everyone turns to him while Gazelle only raises a perfectly arched brow and continues on with her tablet duties.

“I beg your pardon?” Harry interjects, confused.

“I don’t like Paris,” Valentine says, his mouth turned into a frown. “Fuck Paris! The people are rude. It _smells_ , and what the fuck is up with eating snails? Who the fuck eats snails?” He turns to Gazelle, who shrugs on cue.

Eggsy stifles his laughter. “You got me, guv. It’s fuckin’ rank is what it is.”

“See! This kid knows what he’s talking about!” Valentine agrees as he gleefully slaps Eggsy’s back.

Harry, however, is offended. “Escargot,” he explains tensely, “is a delicacy served in France, Spain, _and_ Portugal.”

“Three places where I don’t want my expansion,” the American replies with a grin.

“They have been cultural epicenters for centuries!” Harry grumbles, folding his arms over his chest.

Gazelle cuts the tension with her lithe voice. “Perhaps another location, Mr. Greaves?”

“Quite right,” Merlin agrees as he pulls up another site - Ireland this time. “This is Dalkey, a suburb of Dublin and located about eight kilometers from Dublin City Center. It’s accessible DART…”

Valentine cuts him off again. “I like it!” He slaps the surface on the table. “Sold!” Turning to Gazelle, he nudging her arm. “I always wanted to work with people who have cool accents, you know? Like fun ones. The Irish have fun accents—take Mr. Merlin’s for instance!”

“Merlin is from Edinburgh, sir,” Eggsy corrects as gently and quickly as possible. He can see the death stare forming behind Merlin’s glasses since his boss and mentor is very keen on his Scottish pride.

The man owns _and_ wears a kilt with his family tartan for crying out loud!

“Where’s that?” Valentine asks.

“Scotland,” Gazelle answers with a serene grin. “Perhaps we should adjourn for lunch?”

“He’s a ravin’ lunatic!” Eggsy declares several hours later over a pint.

Merlin nods in somber agreement. “When you have more money than God, you tend to go mad,” he mumbles. His brows furrow and a sound of disgust falls from his mouth. “The twat thought I was from Ireland. _Ireland_! Fuckin’ hell! I used to participate in the Scottish Highland games, mind you. My family has a bleedin’ crest for Clan Gregor! Robert III of Scotland _hated_ us and used to attack our castle on a near monthly basis.”

“Who’s idea was it to change the name to Greaves, then?” Eggsy asks after he’s certain Merlin is done with his rant.

The older man snorts. “My great-great-it’s none of your fuckin’ business, you little shit,” he snaps back.

“Oi! I’m not the one who said you was Irish,” Eggsy retorts.

Merlin frowns. “I saw you laughing.”

“I know that this may come as a surprise, but you are pretty entertainin’, bruv,” Eggsy tells him, nudging Merlin in the side. “‘Sides, I set Valentine straight! Told ‘im where you’s from.”

The bald man’s mouth twitches in response. “You’re right,” he agrees. “At least you weren’t carrying on about dead snails and history lessons.”

“I’ll stick to my pub food and beer, thanks,” Eggsy commiserates, clinking his glass with Merlin’s. “Sorry to disappoint you, bruv.”

A hand comes to rest upon his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You could never disappoint me, Unwin, no matter how hard you tried,” Merlin says in an uncharacteristically parental moment. He goes to squeeze the nape of his neck. “I’m proud of you, lad.”

“Even with our lunatic of a client?” Eggsy tries to joke.

Merlin grins. “He’s mad. _Mad_! How Gazelle deals with him on a daily basis is beyond me.”

“Right! She should be canonized, yeah? St. Gazelle.”

The older man chuckles. “Patron saint of crazy billionaires with no fashion or geographical sense. I’ll drink to that.”

 

* * *

 

Once the site has been purchased, comes the long and tedious process of getting the design standards up to par with the Building Control Act and Regulations.

Unfortunately, it means long hours and having to bring Charlie on board because for some bloody reason he is familiar with Ireland’s permitting procedures. He’s a smug little wanker about it and seems to delight in calling Eggsy ‘sir’ in the most sarcastic tone possible.

Merlin and Harry are quick to admonish him, dispatching Charlie back into his place with his silver spoon shoved far up his ass.

It’s annoying as hell having to put up with him, but Eggsy has dealt with far worse. Besides, he’s certain there will always be a Charlie of some sort of variation at any job and this one is fairly harmless.

At the present time, Eggsy is standing in the archive searching for a document that Harry (through James, for fuck’s sake, mate) asked him to fetch before their meeting with Valentine and the ever patient Gazelle. He’s trying not to take it personally, but he fucking is because this shit has been going on for _weeks_.

Not that Harry isn’t polite. He is and to the point of driving Eggsy utterly mad. He acts like nothing happened between them and that his tongue wasn’t shoved down the young man’s throat.

Eggsy replays it in his head on a near daily basis, wondering if he did something wrong while he laid under the bulk of Harry’s weight. Should he have asked Harry to come upstairs or blown him in his posh car? He’s an architect, not a bloody mind reader, for crying out loud.

“Eggy,” Charlie sneers. “Thought I’d find you in here.”

He rolls his eyes as he continues on his search. “What do you need?” Eggsy sighs.

“Nothing. Just thought you’d be up for a chat,” the prick replies as he walks in and leans against the filing cabinet behind Eggsy’s stool. “How are things?”

“Things are fine,” he tells Charlie distractedly. “Tryin’ to find somethin’ for Harry. Did you manage to get a copy of those permitting records for Merlin?”

Charlie scoffs. “Of course,” he grumbles, pressing the ball of his foot against the stool and pushing. “I’m not stupid.”

“Oi! Watch it!” Eggsy growls, grabbing onto the shelf. He turns his head to see Charlie laying off the stool. “What the fuck?”

The other man holds up his hands. “I was just messing about,” he says. “Calm down.”

“Forgive me when I say I don’t believe it,” Eggsy fires back, motioning to the door. “Now sod off and find someone else to bother.”

Charlie laughs harshly. “But I get the best reaction from you, Eggy!”

“Do you also think that girls mean yes when they say no?” he asks, standing on his tip toes as he reaches for another shelf. “That’s usually frowned upon in most cultured societies, guv.”

Eggsy barely has time the register Charlie’s angry shout and the scrape of the stool against the floor as its’ kicked out from under him. One moment he’s fine and the next, he’s trying to grasp onto the shelf rather than fall, which doesn’t work out, in retrospect. Eggsy lets out an alarmed cry as he, the shelf, and its contents crash onto the floor, where his vision whites out when his head makes contact with something sharp.

He’s not certain how long he’s lying on the floor with a stunned Charlie standing several paces in front of him when a group of people come rushing in to see what the commotion is about.

“Eggsy!” Roxy shouts over a stampede of feet.

Someone goes to help him out from under the pile of books, papers, and other assorted documents, plus a fucking shelf when Gazelle orders, “No, don’t touch him! He may have hurt his neck.”

“I didn’t hurt my bloody neck,” Eggsy snaps, grabbing onto that person’s hand—James’ as it turns out. His ears are ringing and his head feels as if an elephant sat on it. Once he’s propped up against the wall, he goes to touch a part of his head that’s throbbing something wicked and finds it wet. “Oi, I think I’m bleeding.”

No sooner than the words leave his mouth, Richmond Valentine vomits all over Chester King’s trousers and shoes. He covers his mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of him retching.

“What the hell happened in here?” Merlin bellows, looking furious.

Eggsy points to Charlie, though he’s uncertain which one as there are two of them. “That wanker fucking kicked my stool,” he answers. He tries to get to his feet but gets stopped by Gazelle’s hand on his shoulder. “Let me at him!”

Gazelle shakes her head in disagreement and forces Eggsy to look her in the eye. She arches a brow, making a tck sound. “He may have a concussion,” she says to the room as she holds up a finger. “How many do you see?”

“Uh,” he squints. “Two and a half?”

Merlin curses. “ _You_ ,” he shouts, rounding in on Charlie. “I’ve had it ‘bout up to here with your nonsense! Chester, I believe it’s time that the three of us have a chat.”

“Agreed,” Chester says, sounding disappointed and possibly disguised by the sick on his person. “Could someone escort Mr. Unwin to the emergency room?” He turns to Valentine. “And perhaps we shall reschedule for later this week?”

Valentine retches again. “Yes,” he rasps. “That’s so fucked up, man! Blood. I fucking _hate_ blood! Makes me sick every time.”

By sheer dumb luck, Harry is not the one who takes Eggsy to the emergency room. It’s Roxy and Percy, who are marvelous and manage to get them in quick enough while the former is telephoning Eggsy’s flatmates. Jamal and Ryan come at the speed of light, looking quite shaken to find their friend being stitched up while his colleagues leave to return to the office.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Jamal asks, once he’s gotten over the shock.

Eggsy tries to shrug as much as possible, but it’s difficult when someone it sewing your skin back together. “That twat, Charlie, kicked a stool out from under me and I took down a shelf during my fall.”

“Bloody hell, mate!” Ryan gasps. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Jealous wanker is what he is,” Jamal surmises, shaking his head. “He’s had it out for you since day one. I hope he gets fired for this!”

Eggsy sighs. “Who knows,” he replies, wincing as the doctor goes to clip the thread. “His uncle owns the damn firm, _and_ the sight of me bleedin’ made our client puke on him.”

“That’s rank!” his flatmates exclaim in horror.

He closes his eyes. “It’s embarrassin’ is what it is,” Eggsy tells them as the doctor applies bandage to his forehead and goes to fetch his scans. “Now I’m concussed, seein’ double, and probably have me brains leakin’ out my ears.”

“Nah mate, no brains,” Ryan assures after a quick check.

Jamal nudges Eggsy’s foot. “I can work from home tomorrow - yeh know, keep an eye on you. And plot revenge against Wanker Charlie.”

“As much as I like the idea of plottin’, I think I’ll be hangin’ about with my head in the toilet or sleepin’,” Eggsy whines.

Ryan and Jamal grin, the bastards. “Well, we are at your disposal, Mr. Unwin. Would you like scented barf bags or regular?”

 

* * *

 

Eggsy spends a few days at home, alternating between his bedroom and the bathroom where he curses his existence.

He has a righteous headache and a neat row of stitches to match. Lucky for Eggsy, the doctor saw it in his heart to prescribe some Migramax until most of his concussion’s effects quieted down.

So anyways, he sleeps, he pukes, and he thinks of all the ways he can strangle Charlie and dump his body into the Thames without anyone catching on. His flatmates promise they’ll help him with the disposal and provide alibis if the police should come knocking about.

Come Friday, Eggsy receives a lucky bamboo plant from a floral delivery lad who smells of pot and cigarettes, according to Jamal, who signs for it. It’s from everyone at Kingsman, even Harry who manages to write a polite _I am glad to hear that you are recovering_ in elegant script.

Roxy, James, and Percy keep him entertained with text messages while Merlin has been fairly absent. He did call to check in the night of the accident, but Eggsy had been in the shower and promptly crashed out in bed.

“He’s just upset is all,” Roxy assures on Sunday.

Eggsy chuffs at this. “At me? I didn’t even do anythin’!”

“Are you daft?” she asks, annoyed. “Not at you, you tit! At _Charlie_. At the situation! You know how Merlin feels about you; you’re his friend and seeing you like that shook him up a bit.”

He laughs. “Rox, he has the range of emotion of an amoeba.”

“Joke’s on you then,” Roxy tells him cryptically, which Eggsy brushes off without much thought. They make plans for the following weekend and hang up.

Her words come to fruition when he comes into the office on Monday and stops short upon seeing his desk surrounded by three empty ones where Roxy, Percy, and James usually sit. Shaking, Eggsy removes his coat and bag, setting them upon his chair and spies Merlin in his office…

…packing up the last of his things, by the looks of it.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Eggsy demands as he barges in. He feels as if he’s hyperventilating. “Am I hallucinatin’? How hard did I hit my head? Is this _The Twilight Zone_?”

Merlin sets down his packing tape and shuts his office door. “Have a seat,” he offers, solemnly. He notices the lad’s hesitancy. “Eggsy, sit. _Please_.”

“I’m not doin’ anythin’ until you tell me what the fuck is goin’ on!” he fires back, panicked.

His mentor closes his eyes, squeezing his temples with the large span of his fingers. “We quit—Roxy, Percy, James, and myself,” he states.

“What? Why!” Eggsy cries out, shrill and a shade passed by giving a shit about who hears them. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Merlin leans against his soon to be former desk. “Chester only gave Charlie a slap on the wrist about what he did to you and I was positively livid. You could have been seriously injured, even killed! It’s been years in the works, but we had a row and I tendered my resignation. The others followed suit,” he explains.

“Then I’ll quit, too,” the young man tells him.

“No,” Merlin warns. “No. _No_. Absolutely not.” Eggsy goes to contradict him and finds his mentor shaking his shoulders. “I will not hear of it, Gary Unwin! You are an architect on a major office campus design; this _will_ make your career.”

Eggsy shakes his head, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes. “It’s just a building.”

“You have worked too fucking hard to walk away just for an old shit like me,” Merlin counters. He nudges the young man’s chin. “When you get to complete design documents, leave. The four of us are going to start our own firm anyhow and there will always be a place for you.”

He swallows back the first sob, failing to catch the second or the third. Eggsy is not a crier by any means and when it does happen, it’s rare. Merlin has seen it the most of all of Eggsy’s friends—usually tears of frustration—and doesn’t say a word as he pulls Eggsy into a comforting embrace. He buries his face into his mentor’s shoulder while the older man rubs a slow circle in the center of his back.

“You better not snot on this sweater, lad,” Merlin quips. “It’s Armani. Paid a bloody fortune!”

Eggsy chokes back laughter and wipes his eyes. “Oh sod off,” he snaps. “It looks like shit on you.”

“Pssh! It’s brilliant, and you will be brilliant as well,” his mentor insists. “Harry will keep an eye out on you and so will the other principals. If Charlie tries anything else, you tell them immediately, all right?”

He nods. “Right,” Eggsy answers. “Can I leave if something else happens?”

“Of course. And you can kick that wanker in the bollocks on the way out, too,” Merlin says. “And make sure you get him right and good. We don’t want him populating the United Kingdom with his spawn, yeah? Now help me finish up in here and tell me about this pub meeting up Roxy invited me to on Saturday.”

If Eggsy is honest, Merlin does most of the talking while he just bobs his head in agreement. Once the last of his mentor’s things are packed into a single cardboard box and taped shut, he follows him to the reception where Merlin hands in his building pass and keys.

“You’ll be fine,” the older man insists as they go to the lifts. He pulls a face when he sees that Eggsy is going to start crying again. “You are wasting your tears on me, lad. Save it for Valentine and his next terrible ensemble.”

Eggsy chuckles and thumbs at his lower lash line. “Alright,” he says. “Only because you asked so politely.”

“I’m so very proud of you,” Merlin tells him when the lift doors open. “Now sod off before I get emotional. I’ll see you on Saturday, yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah,” Eggsy replies, giving his friend a wave as he watches Merlin file inside the lift and disappear behind metal doors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to be longer than I thought....

Eggsy finds Harry standing at his desk no less than three hours after watching Merlin exiting Kingsman through the lifts.

He barely notices his presence as he taps his pen against the top of the Mr. Bean bobblehead Jamal got him last Christmas. The buffoon plastic man’s bug eyes look at him as it jiggles, his face frozen in that usual perplexed expression.

“I daresay that Mr. Bean is not used to such abuse,” Harry comments, startling Eggsy out of his trance. He catches the pen that bounces out of the architect’s hand before it hits Roxy’s vacant desk.

Eggsy grips the sides of his chair, slowing his breath. “A bit of warnin’ would have been nice,” he snaps, straightening his posture. “You can’t just sneak up on a bloke like that!”

“My apologies,” Harry tells him, holding out the pen for Eggsy to take. He _actually_ sounds sorry, especially with that feeble grin on his face.

Warily, the young man takes the writing utensil back from him. “Don’t usually see you ‘round these parts,” Eggsy says after several moments of awkward silence. He goes to tidy up his desk. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve come to notify you of a change of scenery,” Harry replies, watching the young man as he goes about organizing his files. “Since we are working closely on the Valentine Campus, it would only make sense for you to be sitting near me.”

Eggsy glances up at him, confused.

“With the structural group,” Harry further elaborates. His entire body is tense, especially his face, which is comprised of a mild case of anxiety as he has this discussion with Eggsy.

“I know where you sit,” the young man grumbles, as the principal is starting to fidget.

Harry nods. “Good,” he says, tapping his knuckles against the desk in a hectic tune. “Very good. Do you need help with your things?” Eggsy shakes his head. “Okay then. Well…your desk will be the empty one. Fairly hard to miss.”

He watches the older man start to pitter off, rather aimlessly, in fact. “Oi!” Eggsy calls and is met with Harry turning around. “I’ll need a box for my things.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. He laughs to himself, dimples appearing once more. “That would be helpful. Give me a moment.” He disappears with a graceful leap, going into the archive where there are a half dozen empty banker’s boxes.

Eggsy is certain that all Harry needed to do was just point him in the right direction rather than fetch one for him, but it’s certainly more amusing to witness. He gets out of his chair and starts collecting his things to be shuffled away into a cardboard box.

At least he hears Harry’s approach this time around.

“There you are,” the man declares, setting down two boxes beside Eggsy’s desk. “One hundred percent recycled paper and covered in dust.”

Eggsy leans over to inspect them. “They’ll do, I suppose,” he replies, meeting Harry’s eyes for only a moment. When it happens, it’s jolting; like an electric spark passing between them. He pictures the paneled strips of light spilling into Harry’s car and onto their bodies as they kissed.

“Just let Ector know when he can relocate your machine to your new station,” the structural principal says abruptly, breaking the moment like he did even then. He clears his throat. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

He swallows, pushing the memory away. “Thanks,” Eggsy murmurs, looking away. He busies himself with packing, which doesn’t take long. He’s only been there for four months and hasn’t accumulated much in or on his desk.

Ector comes by a half hour later, telling Eggsy that he’s here to move his machine, and goes about shutting down his computer before unplugging it. He slaps his name tag on top of the single box Eggsy ends up using and follows the IT Director.

By this time, people have come into the office. There are the usual hellos and well wishes, along with jokes about Valentine puking on Chester, and remarks of how happy they are to see Eggsy back at work. Merlin, Roxy, Percy, and James’ absence is never mentioned.

His new surroundings are more or less the same, except his view is now of Harry’s office, which is located directly across from Eggsy’s desk. Its occupant is busy with a phone, though the tone of his voice can be heard through the glass.

Harry has the phone on speaker, not unusual, and is pacing his office with his arms folded across his chest. Eggsy isn’t certain of the conversation, though he is sure that the person on the other end is not Valentine. The older man is far too relaxed to be interacting with him.

“All set,” Ector tells him, flicking on Eggsy’s computer. “Now you can resume your work.”

Eggsy gives him a lopsided smile, wanting to say that it’s doubtful he’ll get anything done today. After a thank you, he starts unpacking and setting up his new station.

Digby, one of Charlie’s crowd, comes in and pauses when he sees Eggsy. “Unwin,” he greets while he removes his bag from his person.

“Mornin’,” Eggsy says distractedly. He is setting up his files for the Valentine project and doesn’t really want to engage with anyone who calls themselves a friend of that twat.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” Digby mentions, trying and failing to make small talk.

Eggsy nods while he finds where he left off the week before. “The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” he quips, looking up with a grin. “I have some work to catch up on if you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Digby says, taking the hint. “Right-o. Laters, Unwin.”

At least one of Charlie’s idiots has some sense.

 

* * *

 

“I _wanted_ to tell you!” Roxy explains after a long hug and inspection of his stitches. “But Merlin said you’d handle it better coming from him.”

Eggsy and she are tucked into a booth at the pub around the corner from Kingsman. She had texted him to meet for lunch, which he wanted to ignore, but dammit, he missed Roxy and _hated_ being in the office. “I cried like a baby,” he admits, concealing his words with the menu.

“Oh, Eggsy,” Roxy sighs, reaching across the table and grasping his hand. “Did anyone see you?”

“Of course not!” he retorts, offended. “Who do you think I am?”

They dissolve into helpless laughter that lasts until a waitress comes to take their order. Roxy shifts in her seat, tilting her head. “Has Charlie bothered you?”

“Nah,” Eggy assures, poking at his cubes with his straw. “I haven’t even seen him today. Probably a good thing, though. May accidentally trip him down the stairs.”

Roxy snorts, her delicate nostrils flaring. “I suppose that’s good, then.”

“I got moved to Harry’s group,” he adds, pouting. Eggsy glances up at his friend and shrugs. “I’m sittin’ with the structural engineers now. He said somethin’ ‘bout us workin’ on the Valentine project and how it would make sense for me to sit by him.”

Roxy pulls a face. “How odd,” she says. “He has a point, I guess.”

“I guess,” Eggsy echoes. He slumps against his seat. “Things are twisted right now, I’ll tell you that, Rox. It feels weird without you lot bein’ there.”

“What did Merlin tell you?”

Eggsy frowns. “Wait until the design documents are complete and then leave,” he mumbles, scratching at his chin. “It don’t feel right.”

“It’s only been what…several hours?” Roxy reasons. “Give it some time to sink in. Besides, you’re going to be so busy that the design documents will be done before you know it.”

Even with her kind words and promises of regular meet-ups and a healthy dose of Shepard’s pie, Eggsy still feels as if he’s missing a limb.

 

* * *

 

Things at work return to normal, for the most part.

He works long hours and is mostly able to ignore his attraction to Harry because of sheer exhaustion. Even when they are sequestered in a conference room with specs and drawings laid out on the table, Eggsy finds that he can push through the scent of Harry’s cologne curling into his nostrils.

He might think about it later in the privacy of his bedroom with his boxers pushed down his thighs and Harry’s name on his lips. So what? It ain’t no one’s business but his own.

So yeah, things are back to normal. That is if Eggsy can ignore the obnoxious fruit basket that arrives in kind regards from the Valentine Corporation, two days before their rescheduled meeting.

By then, he’s all healed up and sans stitches in his scalp, but now Eggsy has to deal with a new emotion—embarrassment. He carries the basket to the galley and sends out an email to the rest of the office, telling them that there are treats for the taking before popping off to a drug store for a thank you card.

He does manage to sneak a picture and send it to Merlin, Roxy, Percy, and James, who fire back with a range of responses from sheer amusement to outright mocking.

While writing a quick note inside the least offensive card Eggsy could find, receives a text from Merlin that reads, “Doesn’t he know it’s been a month since your incident?”

Snorting back his laughter, he replies with an affirmative and goes back to the task at hand. Leave it to his mentor to bring up proper etiquette, the berk. As Eggsy is signing his name, his phone vibrates across his desk with a new message. “Wanker,” is all it says, in true Merlin fashion.

“Unwin,” Digby calls from the stairs, having replaced Charlie on the project—thank God. He’s not as experienced with permitting, but decidedly more pleasant to work with. “Richmond Valentine and his assistant just arrived.”

Eggsy nods as he sticks the card into its envelope. “Be right there, yeah?” He doesn’t bother licking it closed, sparing himself from the rank taste, and heads off with a notepad and pen.

Upon entering the conference room, he’s greeted by a very enthusiastic Valentine who throws his arms around Eggsy and hugs him until his ribs ache.

“You look good, man!” the billionaire exclaims, clapping his cheek with a smile just as bright as his magenta sweater and matching polo. “Gazelle and I were worried about you! Fuck! I haven’t seen so much blood…” Valentine pales considerably and brings his hand to his mouth, retching.

Remember what happened to Chester, Eggsy takes a step back and waits out the man’s reaction until he clears his throat a minute or so later. “You were fucked up, man,” Valentine concludes with a weak smile.

“Thanks for the fruit basket,” Eggsy says, holding out the thank you card. He notices how Chester’s eyebrows raise in surprise and the soft grin on Harry’s lips. “I really appreciated it.”

Valentine takes the card and opens it, gleefully looking at the contents. “Don’t worry about it, man! You know what the old saying is - an apple a day!” He turns to Gazelle. “Gazzy, look!”

She peeks over his shoulder, a slow smile forming. “That is very thoughtful of you, Mr. Unwin.”

“If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world,” Harry says, quoting Francis Bacon. He gestures to the empty chairs around the conference table. “Shall we begin our meeting?”

Eggsy goes to be seated next to Harry and happens to catch Chester’s glaring at him. He supposes that the classiest old twat is peeved that someone as low as himself actually has manners and the foresight to present a thank you card in a timely manner.

Not to mention, Eggsy has managed to make Charlie look like a complete twat - in front of a client, no less.

He and Harry bring Valentine up to speed on the project’s progress. Merlin’s absence is never mentioned at any point of the meeting, something Eggsy believes is deliberate. It makes him miss his mentor all the more because when he glances towards the head of the table, it’s not Merlin, but Digby diligently taking notes.

The meeting concludes an hour after lunchtime. Harry and Chester usher Valentine and Gazelle to a restaurant to wine and dine them.

Like a fancy meal will create amnesia.

“That went rather well,” Digby comments, cheerfully, as they venture back to their desks.

Eggsy nods. “That’s only the beginnin’, bruv,” he warns. “Valentine is…well, he is.”

“Harry mentioned as much,” his colleague chuckles. “He said that he’s eccentric.”

“That’s Harry bein’ nice,” Eggsy replies as he pulls out his phone. He sends a text to the group message he has going with Merlin, Roxy, Percy, and James that reads, _Today’s colour was magenta. Damn near blindin’!_ Chuckling, Eggsy fetches himself some lunch from the galley and gets himself back to work.

Harry wanders back at some point, looking rather comatose as one does when they indulge in too much rich cuisine. Or from having to deal with Valentine _and_ Chester at the same time. They exchange a nod just as Digby pops up from his chair to ask an assortment of questions.

Eggsy goes back to his computer screen and continues with the revisions they discussed during the meeting. He’ll be working late on a Friday night, but at least he can avoid having to deal with this nonsense over the weekend.

He’ll have the flat to himself and no concrete plans as Roxy is in Brighton and Percy and James are having a weekend somewhere that involves tomatoes and stomping upon them, allowing Eggsy time to catch up on much-needed sleep. He daydreams of the softness of his bed and a hot shower without his roommates bothering him or eating his Indian takeaway.

Rain hammers against the windows sometime around three, just as people still leaving. He imagines that he’ll miss most of the rush on the tubes, thank Christ, and decides to splurge on a cab for the rest of the way back to his flat.

“It’s nearly seven,” Harry says as he comes out of his office, straightening his coat. He seems astounded that Eggsy is still here and when he glances over the top of his monitors, the older man looks it too. “I’d think you would have something better to do than work through the night.”

He shakes his head. “Could say the same for you, guv.”

“My outing with Chester and Mr. Valentine took longer than expected,” Harry explains.

Eggsy smirks. “As one does when you are babysittin’ two grown men.”

Harry makes a ‘tch’ sound and rolls his eyes. “I’ll have you know that Chester can look after himself for several hours at a time,” he retorts, stepping closer to Eggsy’s desk. “The same cannot be said for Mr. Valentine, however.”

“Mad genius, that one,” Eggsy agrees. “Don’t let him get involved with politics…probably end up bein’ a zealot.”

“I believe that Ms. Gazelle has that handled,” Harry concludes, setting his briefcase on the floor.

Eggsy chuckles. “Probably told ‘im to play to his strengths.” He sizes up his boss and leans back in his chair, head tilted in confusion. “Why aren’t you out at a play on Shaftesbury Avenue, all done up like a penguin?”

“I resent that,” Harry gripes, nudging Eggsy’s shoulder. “The suit is a modern gentleman's armor, I’ll have you mind.”

“You’re an engineer, bruv,” Eggsy reminds him, still snickering as he saves his work. “Not a bloody knight.”

A disgruntled sound passes through Harry’s lips. “Cheeky little berk,” he mumbles. “Come along, I’ll drive you home.”

“Nah,” the young man says, rising to his feet and gathering his things. “I’m just goin’ to take the tube, thanks.”

Harry gestures to the weather outside. “Eggsy, it’s _pouring_ rain. Not to mention you don’t even have an umbrella with you —”

“The last time you drove me home, we ended up snoggin’ in the front seat of your car and then pretended it never happened,” Eggsy snaps, forgetting his cool for just a moment. He swallows down the rest of his frustration and forces himself to stare at Harry, who looks like someone who’s been slapped in the face. “I may not have the most impressive pedigree, but I’m not goin’ to be your dirty little secret, bruv. Go home to your wife or summat.”

Harry stands there, looking wounded and bloody gorgeous. “Is that what you think?” he finally inquires. “That you’d be my dirty little secret?”

“Ain’t that what you posh folk do?” Eggsy questions with a snarl. “Have a kept boy because the missus is done puttin’ out?”

“I’m not married.”

Eggsy’s stomach clenches, yet he manages a careless shrug. “Girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend…or boyfriend either,” Harry tells him.

He spins around, throwing his hands up in the arm. “A domestic fuckin’ partner, then! I don’t fuckin’ know, Harry! But you acted like you wanted in my trousers, then fucked off like someone stuck you with an amnesia dart.”

“I do want in your trousers,” Harry shouts back before flushing a marvelous shade of pink. He stammers for a moment, searching for the proper words. “I mean…yes. I want you. Very much.”

Eggsy raises a brow. “Sure, right,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“You are extraordinary,” Harry replies. “I thought you would come to your senses and wonder why you were with someone like me—more than twice your age. Or press sexual harassment charges. So I believed it would be easier to chalk up our encounter to exhaustion.”

He casts a dubious look at the older man. “Easier for who exactly?” he asks bluntly, leaning against his desk and frowning. “I don’t recall this conversation, you see, and usually when somethin’ like this is decided, it involves _two_ folks, yeah?”

“Your point is duly noted,” Harry states, looking thoroughly abashed. “And my apologies are immediately extended in hopes that you will accept them.”

Eggsy crosses his arms tightly over his chest, an unconscious gesture to protect himself from more hurt and disappointment. “I don’t like bein’ led on,” he grumbles. “Especially when I have to work with you every day and just watchin’ you bend over gives me a hard on.”

A playful grin dances across Harry’s lips as he moves closer into the sphere of Eggsy’s personal space, his eyes darkening from warm brown to near black. “Had I known this information,” he intones, staring at the line of Eggsy’s mouth, “I would have used it for my own purposes.”

“You’re a liar is what you are,” Eggsy whispers, body arching into the older man’s. The spicy scent of Harry’s cologne tickles his nostrils while simultaneously making his pants a bit tighter, particularly in the crotch. “All talk and no action, guv.”

Harry reaches out, running his thumb over the damp skin of the young man’s bottom lip. “Haven’t you heard that patience is a virtue?”

“Overrated,” Eggsy responds hoarsely. He keeps his eyes glued to Harry, watching as he follows his own thumb over its journey across the young man’s face. From tracing his lips to caressing his cheek and then drawing an invisible line up his jaw—all followed by the damp heat of the older man’s breath. Eggsy shivers, closing his eyes and tilting his head to expose more of his neck. “Harry,” he whispers.

“Hm?” he replies, his lips dangerously close to the spot near the junction of the young man’s jaw and neck that makes his knees go weak. “You were saying?”

Eggsy whimpers at the first press of Harry’s lips and digs his fingers into the wood of his desk by the fifth. His chest is heaving, unable to fully expand for oxygen because all around him is Harry.

Harry’s tongue at his earlobe.

Harry’s open mouth kiss against the birthmark on his throat.

Harry’s hand cupping his bulge. “Come home with me,” he whispers.

“You can’t treat me like I don’t exist,” Eggsy whispers back.

Harry’s lips moving towards his own as the heel of his palm presses against his throbbing cock. “I won’t,” he assures over Eggsy’s whine. “Come home with me.”

“I won’t tell anyone ‘bout us,” the young man tells him once he’s gotten his voice back, albeit weak and needy.

Harry’s tongue at the corner of his mouth. “I know you won’t,” he says before pulling Eggsy into a deep, possessive kiss. He’s still rubbing his cock through the material of his jeans and briefs, making the young man’s knees weak. “Eggsy, come home with me,” Harry murmurs one last time.

“ _Yes_ ,” he answers, like the air’s been punched from his lungs.

 

* * *

 

Harry keeps his hand in the junction of where Eggsy’s thigh and pelvis meet, kneading the area as he drives them back to his home.

Not that Eggsy pays much attention to his surroundings; he’s more worried about cumming in his trousers. His orgasm has been burning in his gut for ages, gaining momentum as the Jaguar draws closer to Harry’s home in Stanhope Mews. Whatever this man has planned for him, Eggsy is certain he won’t last long.

“Remove yourself from your trousers,” Harry’s voice orders, cutting into his thoughts. They exchange a glance in the darkened automobile; there’s a feral grin on his face.

Eggsy forgets to breathe. “What? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Shit,” he groans, hastily fumbling for his zipper. With some wiggling, Eggsy manages to get his trousers and briefs around the middle of his thighs, exposing his reddened, leaking cock into the warm air of Harry’s car.

He hears the older man curse before he runs a finger from base to tip, swirling the pad of the digit in the mess of precum. Eggsy groans, digging his fingers into the expensive leather. “Gorgeous,” Harry whispers, taking him in hand and giving his cock a teasing jerk. “Fucking gorgeous.”

“What if I get jizz all over your seat?” Eggsy moans more than asks, shifting as Harry fondles his balls for a moment. He bites his lip, trying to keep back his whimpers.

Harry starts stroking him in earnest, using the precum wetting his foreskin to lubricate the way. “It’s leather,” he purrs. “I only want you to worry about cumming for me, darling.”

Eggsy throws his head back, bucking his hips into the perfect grip of Harry’s fist. “Can’t go ‘round talkin’ like that, bruv,” he pants, watching as the older man works his cock. “Might give a bloke a heart attack.”

“I think you have the endurance to tolerate it,” Harry quips, keeping his eyes on the road.

His hand, though.

His hand is a fucking wet dream. Eggsy has gotten his fair share of hand jobs from blokes and birds alike, but Christ, none of them have had this type of finesse and skill. He’s teetering on the edge of release for ages, squirming against the leather seat and cursing Harry’s name, pleading for him to shove him over the cliff and end it.

“Please,” Eggsy cries out, latching onto the older man’s wrist while they sit at a stoplight. “Fuck, _Harry_ , please!”

The light turns green and Harry’s hand gains momentum. Eggsy’s bollocks draw into his body and his thighs are shaking. If this keeps up, he’s likely to go mad from the denial of his orgasm and should not be held accountable if he ends up pouncing the driver.

“Do it now, Eggsy,” Harry tells him and he’s fucking gone.

Everything whites out, like a blizzard, and he can hear himself cry out Harry’s name over and over. As his release pulses out of him, his other senses come back in slow order, leaving Eggsy limp and wrecked in Harry’s passenger seat.

Like being unplugged and put back into the socket.

He blinks the last of his senselessness from his eyes and finds his breath fogging up the window. Eggsy turns toward a smug Harry, who is sucking on a bit of his thumb when he notices that the young man is back with him. “You taste marvelous, darling,” he states, winking like a cheeky berk. “And you’d probably want to put yourself together again. We’re about to pull in.”

Eggsy glances down at himself and his now flaccid cock, wet and pressed against the tops of his semen covered thighs. “What about my clothes?” he asks, reaching for the waistband of his briefs and trousers.

“I’d like to keep you naked for the duration of this weekend,” Harry tells pointedly. “That is, if you are amenable to such a proposition.”

His cock twitches in interest, despite being spent. “Only if you got a washer and dryer, bruv.”

“Little shit,” Harry huffs, pulling the Jaguar onto a street with neat rows of houses on either side and cobblestone sidewalks.

They pull into a dimly lit, yet orderly garage. Eggsy admittedly doesn’t notice much else as Harry leads him into the house - just Harry’s fingers laced between his own and the older man’s thumb pressed against his pulse point.

As soon as their bags are placed on the kitchen table, Eggsy and Harry are all over each other. Fingers unclasp buttons, slipping under clothing to find skin. Bodies moving through semi-darkness towards a staircase that separates them from the bedroom. Mouths pressed together, sloppy and uncoordinated.

He can taste a bit of himself lingering on Harry’s tongue, salty mixed in with the sweetness of the older man. Eggsy seeks more, moaning when his tongue brushes against Harry’s and buries his fingers in his dark brown hair. “Yes, Harry,” he murmurs when they part for breath, his words muddled by teeth nipping at his bottom lip. He pulls them back together as they begin to ascend the stairs.

Eggsy doesn’t recall the rest of the way to Harry’s bedroom, just that they end up naked before their bodies hit the mattress.

Of course Harry is fit and too bloody gorgeous to be real; all chiseled pectorals and flat stomach with a dusting of fine brown hair from sternum to groin, where his cock is surrounded by dark brown curls while it proudly juts out from between his thighs.

He notices Eggsy staring and offers a cheeky, dimpled grin as he leans over him, hands latched onto the young man’s hips. Gently, Harry nudges him onto his stomach, connecting the space between freckles and birthmarks with his mouth. “Lovely,” Eggsy hears Harry murmur against the curve of his ass, kissing and licking a path towards his crack. “So lovely.”

For a moment, he thinks Harry is going to rim him, which Eggsy wouldn’t mind except he’d prefer to shower before someone sticks their tongue up his ass—it’s only polite after all.

Harry moves him again just as his mouth nears the cleft of his cheeks, drifting back over the delicate skin stretched over his hip and down the inseam of Eggsy’s thigh. His hands hold Eggsy’s legs apart, keeping them pinning to the bed as Harry takes the young man’s hardening cock into his mouth.

“Har—” Eggsy chokes out, his entire body jerking helplessly. He fists the comforter, crying out as Harry’s lips touch the base of his length. “Fuck!”

His cock slips from the slick heat. “We’ll get there, darling,” Harry assures, his body moving. The pressure of him against Eggsy is gone and the sound of a drawer opening follows. His hand rifles through its contents until it clicks shut.

Items drop onto the comforter, soundless and screaming all at once. Eggsy sneaks a glance in their direction, catching a glimpse of a condom and a plastic bottle that airs on the small side. Harry’s fingers touch his chin, turning his head until they are looking at each other.

“Having second thoughts?” he questions.

Eggsy swallows, shaking his head. “Just wonderin’ if you plan on gettin’ on with it,” he quips, wagging his brows. “Neither of us are gettin’ younger, bruv.”

The fingers grasping his chin tighten momentarily before they slip between his lips, salty on his tongue. “You enjoy running your mouth,” Harry mentions in between quick bites to Eggsy’s stomach, trailing down, down, and down. His tongue teases the crown of the young man’s cock, drawing out a muffled cry. “We’ll explore the benefits of that later.”

Eggsy’s length goes back in Harry’s mouth and he can barely string a thought together. He’s a flurry of stifled moans and curses, hips following the precise movements of the gentleman’s ministrations. It’s safe to say that Eggsy isn’t the least bit surprised when he hears the bottle’s cap pop open or when the tip of Harry’s finger sinks into the taut muscle of his hole.

He shouldn’t be surprised, but then again he is.

Harry seems to have the knowledge of keeping Eggsy on the very cusp of pleasure as he finger fucks him open. He takes his time exploring the tight channel—the very depths of the young man—to find what will ignite a reaction. Harry pays no mind to Eggsy’s wanton cries or how his tongue winds its way around his finger, covering them with saliva.

“Gorgeous creature,” Harry whispers into a cluster of freckles on his side. He flexes the two fingers inside of Eggsy, chuckling into his sweaty skin as he does a full body jerk. “Bloody gorgeous.”

“Harry,” the young man whimpers once his mouth is free. The condom wrapper is being torn open and fitted over his lover’s cock. “Fuck me,” he begs when Harry appears over him like a storm cloud.

The blunt press and burn of a cock slipping inside of him, all slick with lube, makes Eggsy sigh with relief. He closes his eyes, whispering Harry’s name as he wraps his legs around the older man’s trim waist. “ _Please_ fuck me,” he tells him when he’s able to open his eyes.

His request is met with the hard roll of Harry’s hips and a mouth pressed against his own.

 

* * *

 

It’s late morning when Eggsy nuzzles his face into the pillow under his head.

He inhales long and deep, smelling Harry all around him—that rich spiciness and warmth that sinks into his bones. Eggsy rolls onto his back and presses the heel of his palm into his closed eye while the other one blinks itself open.

A pure white vaulted ceiling greets him, reflecting the day’s dreary weather while rain methodically falls against the roof. His eyes follow the smooth curves until they meet the edges of beige paint that borders a bit of grey. The rest of the bedroom is a mixture of antiquity meets the current era: a heavy wooden five drawer dresser with matching bedside tables, an upholstered wingback headboard, an armchair recently reupholstered and framed prints that Eggsy guesses could be originals.

The sounds of footfalls creaking up the stairs earn his attention as he pushes himself upright, ignoring the ache of sore, overworked muscles. Just as Eggsy settles himself against the headboard, Harry comes through the door balancing a tray in his hands.

Wearing clothes, it seems. It’s just a pair of sleep pants and a faded university t-shirt, but they cover up Harry’s body which is truly a shame.

“You got dressed without me,” the young man mock pouts, watching his lover’s approach.

Harry bends slightly at the waist to bestow a kiss upon Eggsy’s sleep ruffled hair. “I was making us breakfast,” he explains, using one hand to pull down the legs before setting it on the young man’s lap. He points to several slices of crispy bacon. “And I wanted to avoid grease burns on important parts, you see, darling.”

“You’re forgiven, I suppose,” Eggsy relents, biting into a bit of buttered toast.

The older man scoffs and begins divesting himself of his clothes, dropping them over the side of the bed. There’s no particular art to Harry’s striptease. He looks even lovelier in daylight; his hair is in wavy disarray from their late night shower and subsequent air drying and sleep-soft even though he’s been awake for an hour or more. Once naked, Harry slips under the covers, his body pressed against Eggsy’s as he makes himself comfortable. “Better?”

“Much.”

Breakfast is a leisurely affair with the usual morning chit chat and some good-natured ribbing in between. It feels natural to lie in Harry’s bed and have the man himself sitting next to Eggsy, brushing crumbs and flecks of bacon from his lips.

“Had I known how famished sex makes you,” the older man teases, kissing away butter grease and chasing after the taste of it with his tongue.

Eggsy goes to reply but finds himself moaning as Harry tweaks one of his nipples between two fingers. The pad of one rubs over the hardening nub - back and forth - as his cock takes rapid interest. “You’re insatiable,” he gasps while Harry goes to tongue its twin. “Soddin’ pervert, you are.”

“Hmm,” he hums in agreement, coming off Eggsy’s nipple with a loud pop. “Yes, I quite agree.” Harry scoots off the mattress, taking the tray with him, though he doesn’t go far—just to the dresser. “Though I must confess that having a gorgeous creature like yourself in my bed seems to inspire me all the more.”

The young man snorts, rolling his eyes as he’s pulled by the ankles midway down the bed. “You have low standards, bruv,” Eggsy snickers.

“I set my standards very high,” Harry counters, straddling Eggsy’s pelvis for a moment before lying next to him on his side. He runs a finger up his lover’s length, delighting in his shiver. “I’ve wanted you for months, my darling.”

Eggsy faces him, nose wrinkled in confusion. “Months, you say?” he asks, taking Harry in hand and giving his beautiful, thick cock a teasing jerk. He leans in, nipping a sensitive spot on his lover’s neck as his fist moves slowly.

Harry groans, quickly clearing his throat. “Ever since you came into the first meeting with Valentine,” he confesses. “Blowing us all out of the water and being a cheeky little shit.” He rolls his hips with the languid movements of Eggsy’s fist.

“All them talk ‘bout vertical fins got you hot and bothered, yeah?” the young man whispers, using his thumb to pull back a bit of foreskin to expose Harry’s leaking head. He rubs the digit over the slick ridge of flesh. “You should hear me go on ‘bout interiors.”

Harry’s body shifts and suddenly Eggsy is on his back, wrists pinned to the mattress as the older man rubs their cocks together. “I’ve had plenty of fantasies featuring you. All of them are inappropriate for the office,” he leers, closing the distance between them.

Eggsy falls into the kiss while his hips follow Harry’s lead, meeting each thrust and relishing the way they fit together. And how they give into the need, the want that’s been evidently building for months. He might be sore come Monday morning, but Eggsy doesn’t care; he just wants to indulge. He wants Harry to take him apart and vice versa.

He’s been dreaming about this from the moment he saw Harry, so why the hell not?

“Eggsy,” Harry murmurs hoarsely. His teeth catch the young man’s bottom lip, clenching down until he hisses and bucks against him.

“Is that why you wanted me on the project?” he grunts out, hooking a leg over his lover’s hip to quicken their pace. He feels Harry’s muscles moving under him, working in conjunction with Eggsy to bring them closer to release. “Wanted to seduce me, did you?”

Harry’s fist wraps around both their cocks, stroking them in time with their thrusts. “Yes, you wicked thing,” he replies in the shell of Eggsy’s ear. “I wanted to get close to you.”

“Fuck,” he says ineloquently, head thrown back and his hands seeking his lover’s skin. His cheeks, all the way down to his chest, is flushed and sweaty and trembling. “Harry!”

Their mouths find one another; kissing is a generous term. It’s all open mouthed, swallowing each other’s anticipatory moans and tasting salty skin. Eggsy is the first to cum, his hips stuttering wildly as he cries his lover’s name over and over.

He feels the hot spurt of Harry’s spunk against his abdomen, burning a brand into his flesh while Harry vocalizes his pleasure with a long, deep groan. It ends with Eggsy’s name and a dimpled smile.

“Spinnin’ the odds in your favor,” the young man slurs, watching as Harry reaches for his pajama bottoms to wipe them off.

“Unashamedly so,” his lover replies with a grin, tossing the soiled article of clothing off the bed. Harry pulls the comforter over them and spoons Eggsy from behind. “How am I doing?” he whispers into the young man’s ear.

Eggsy snorts, closing his eyes. “You’re a tart,” he answers, sinking into Harry’s warmth. “You should be proud.”

“Quite.”

 

* * *

 

They spend the weekend sleeping, eating, and fucking.

By the time Sunday evening comes around, Eggsy has almost forgotten what it’s like to wear clothes until Harry presents him with the same ones from Friday night, all washed and ironed. Before he can put them on, he is pulled into the comfort of Harry’s arms and kissed while walking back towards the bed.

Eggsy hasn’t had this much sex all the years he’s been active, much less been taken apart in the way that only the older man seems to know how. His throat is a bit sore from all the crying out and cock sucking he’s done, but he can’t help being smug about it.

And neither can Harry, judging by the lazy grin spreading across his lips as they drive back to Eggsy’s flat. He gives his hand a gentle squeeze and runs his thumb over Eggsy’s knuckles. It’s as intimate as a kiss and goosebumps pimple underneath his clothing.

The car ride is over far too soon, despite Harry living across town from his flat, and they lapse into a thoughtful silence as the engine is shut off.

“Definitely not the weekend I planned for,” Eggsy finally says.

Harry raises a brow. “You mean you don’t engage in animalistic sex on a normal basis?”

“Ha, ha,” he deadpans, poking his lover in the arm. “You’re a regular Stephen Fry, you are.” Eggsy looks up, noticing that the lights are on in his flat. “I should probably get going…my mates are back.”

“Right,” Harry agrees, sounding disappointed. He leans over the center console just as Eggsy is going to grab his bag and kisses him sweetly. When they part, Harry is carding his fingers through his lover’s hair. “I can assure you that this isn’t a weekend romp.”

Eggsy nods, releasing a breath of relief. “Thank God,” he says, kissing Harry again. “You’ve ruined me for everyone else, you tart.”

“Good,” his lover agrees, chuckling. They stare at each other for longer than either of them care to admit. “May I take you to dinner on Wednesday night?”

He breaks out into a smile. “You may,” Eggsy replies. “Should I consider this a date, Mr. Hart?”

“Yes, Mr. Unwin,” Harry says, brushing his lips against the young man’s cheek followed by his nose and finally his mouth. “You should, darling.”

It takes them another twenty minutes of making out before Eggsy leaves Harry’s car and watches it disappear down the street before he even sets foot into his flat.

He is greeted by the smell of Indian takeaway and _Top Gear_ on the telly, his stomach clenching in discomfort because he already misses Harry. “Oi, oi!” Eggsy calls as he locks the front door and drops his bag beside the couch.

“Oi!” Jamal says, waving distractedly. “Left you some nosh, if you’re interested.”

Eggsy pats his flatmate’s shoulder and hurries to the kitchen to find Ryan spooning some food onto a plate. “Oi,” his friend yawns upon hearing his footsteps. “I decided to dial a dinner; hope you don’t mind.”

“Did you save me some naan?” Eggsy inquires as he grabs some flatware. He spots the aforementioned food and snatches a piece. “I’m starved!”

Ryan glances at him, his eyes questioning his flatmate’s appearance. “Weren’t you wearing that on Friday, mate?”

“Yeah so?” he replies, dumping the last of the chicken tikka marsala onto his plate. Eggsy pushes past his friend to for some rice. “You the fashion police now?”

A few moments of silence go by until Ryan gasps. “What’s that on the back of your neck?” he exclaims, thumbing at a patch of skin left uncovered by Eggsy’s jumper. He holds the other lad in place and squawks, “It’s a bloody hickey! Jamal! Eggsy pulled this weekend; come look!”

“Get out!” his other flatmate bellows from the living room. He scrambles his way into the kitchen and whoops in victory upon seeing the state of Eggsy’s neck. “Nice, bruv! Who is the lucky bird or bloke? Was Tilde back in town?”

He blushes red, squirming away from Ryan and goes to cover his nape. “Bloody hell!” Eggsy cries, knowing that they are looking one of many love bites that Harry tenderly sucked into his skin. “Leave a man in peace, Jesus! I haven’t even eaten yet! And no, Tilde wasn’t in town, you wanker. That’s _really_ over, I mean it!”

“So?” Ryan asks, cutting off Jamal as he’s about to debate the merits of sleeping with a Swedish bird. He wags his brows, grinning like an idiot. “Who is the lucky person who did our little egg?”

“You don’t know him,” Eggsy finally says, poking at his dinner. “And I’d prefer not to say much about it, yeah?”

Jamal snickers as he goes back into the living room, having lost interest in his flatmate’s sex life. Ryan is still standing there, all parental with his arms crossed over his chest. “Not like you to keep your trap shut over sex, mate.”

“I like him,” Eggsy mumbles, feeling the tips of his ears turn a fantastic shade of crimson. “So…I don’t want to jinx anythin’, okay?”

Ryan purses his lips together and nods. “Alright,” he agrees. “But I want to meet this bloke at some point, you hear?”

“It’s not _you_ I’m worried ‘bout,” Eggsy says as they go to join Jamal in the living room, to which Ryan dissolves into a fit of laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

There is a part of Eggsy that expects the same song and dance that he and Harry have partaken in—the one where they pretend nothing happened and everything is as it used to be.

He’s a bit jaded for only being twenty-five, but he has every reason to be: very little in Eggsy’s life has gone according to plan.

There are his deceased parents and the relatives who didn’t want to take in a grieving six year old. The many foster homes—some good, some not so—and social workers who tried to make sense of their young charge until the Arnolds took him in.

Even _that_ didn’t go accordingly, but it was no fault of theirs that cancer ran rampant in their bodies and took them both just before Eggsy started university.

So yeah, he doesn’t expect much from others—even the folks he’s dated. Harry may have treated him like he walked on water, but it don’t mean nothing.

Besides, it’s easier for Eggsy if he’s already prepared to be let down from the get-go.

 

* * *

 

Walking into work on Monday morning is nausea inducing.

Not to mention a bit achy as Eggsy limps towards his desk, as his bum has been overused thanks to a certain structural principal who hasn’t even arrived yet. Removing his bag and jacket, he looks around and wonders if anything has changed or shows any telltale signs of Harry’s Friday evening seduction.

“Morning, Unwin,” Digby chirps, looking rosy-cheeked from the chilly air and carrying his front bicycle wheel in one gloved hand. “Good weekend?”

Eggsy nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “You?”

“Bit of the same,” his colleague tells him, hiding the wheel under his desk. “Two days isn’t nearly enough of a break.”

They chat idly while they begin their morning and discuss the latest revisions to the Valentine project when Harry comes in, late as usual.

“Gentlemen,” he greets, raising his cup of coffee in lieu of a wave as he darts into his office.

Through the glass, Eggsy steals glances at Harry as he sets his cup down on his desk and begins ridding himself of his scarf and jacket. He thinks of the body hidden underneath the layers of clothing and all the places his lips and hands touched while in Harry’s bed, finding that his trousers are suddenly too tight.

“How was your weekend, Harry?” Digby asks when the structural principal emerges from his office a half hour later and hands him a folder.

Harry shrugs, taking a sip from his coffee. “Filled with strenuous activity,” he answers in a casual tone. “Might have tweaked my back, honestly.”

“What did you get up to?” their colleague questions, raising a brow. “Housework?”

Eggsy watches as Harry nods. “And a guest who needed entertaining,” the older man adds, meeting his eyes. “What about you both?”

Digby launches into a more descriptive version of his weekend events while Eggsy gets back to work, keeping all thoughts of their boss naked and completely undone out of his head.

For the most part.

“And you, Eggsy,” Harry says. “How was your weekend?”

He glances up from his monitor just in time to catch the dimpled grin on his lover’s face. “I think I may have pulled my groin,” he replies, delighting in the faint flush that appears on Harry’s cheeks. “Too much working out, yeah?”

“You should be more careful,” Harry offers, eyes darkening.

“Perhaps stretch a bit,” Eggsy adds with an innocent smile. “I really should work on that. You know; making my muscles more limber. Any ideas on what could help?”

Harry chokes on his coffee while Digby, bless him, doesn’t catch on. “I heard yoga’s good for that,” he says excitedly. It turns out his girlfriend of the moment is an instructor and he swears that it’s doing wonders for his marathon training exercises.

Eggsy listens with rapt fascination, delighting in the strained reaction from his lover, who is discreet about his leaving to venture back into his office. As he and Digby settle down to return to their work, his mobile buzzes across his desk.

Curious, he reaches for the device and opens his home screen to find a text from Harry. Eggsy sneaks a quick stare at the older man before reading what he has said.

 _Shame about your groin_ , it says. _Perhaps I should make more use of your cheeky mouth next time?_

He coughs, hiding his ill suppressed whimper, and feels his cheeks burning. Eggsy turns back to Harry’s office and finds that his lover is now on the phone, his elegant fingers caressing his coffee cup. _I recall that you enjoy hearin’ my cheek, especially when I’m sayin’ your name._

Hitting send, Eggsy is a bit too pleased with himself. Grinning smugly, he pretends to yawn and stretch his arms over his head to see Harry’s reaction.

It is delightful and instantaneous; his eyebrows shoot towards his hairline as his jaw goes slack. Looking up, his lover’s eyes are darker than their usual brown, swirling with lust. Harry runs his tongue over his lips, smirking as he continues his phone call.

Moments later, Eggsy’s mobile buzzes again and there’s another message from his boss. _I do hope you plan on staying over after our date. Would like to test this theory of yours._

If only Harry’s office weren’t made of glass and Eggsy could shut the door just to show him exactly what he thinks of this theory.

They trade a healthy mix of dirty and flirtatious texts up until lunch, when Harry disappears for an off-site meeting in the company of Chester and their civil engineering principal. Once he returns, another message sets them off into another flurry of witty banter.

A warmth settles in his body every time his mobile buzzes; that giddy feeling he’s seen his mates experience when they first start dating someone. Sure, he’s happy like the next bloke, but something about Harry makes his pulse quicken.

And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a bloody sex god in the bedroom.

Or in the shower.

That one time in the living room… _anyways_.

Wednesday doesn’t come fast enough and he’s already mentioned to his flatmates not expect him home that evening. They catcall him as Eggsy leaves for work, leaving his face red as he gets on the tube. He’s dressed up fancier than normal, wearing his best trousers and a black jumper he’s hardly worn. In his bag is an extra pair of clothes, rolled up and waiting to be used in the following morning.

“Aren’t you looking a bit done up?” Digby comments before a panicked expression crosses his face. “Shit! Do we have a meeting with Valentine?”

Eggsy chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a date after work,” he explains as Charlie walks over to them, sipping on his morning cup of tea. “Won’t have time to run back to my flat.”

“Ah,” Digby replies, sounding relieved. “Good luck then. Morning Chaz.”

Charlie taps his friend’s shoulder. “Morning,” he says, turning to Eggsy and raising a brow. They’ve made it a point to avoid each other, though Charlie sometimes gets an itch to come over and linger by Eggsy and Digby’s area just to see what will happen. It’s usually a letdown as Eggsy never bites. “Bit much, isn’t it?”

“Unwin has a date after work,” their colleague tells him, sounding proud.

“A date?” Charlie balks. “Who’d want to date you?”

Eggsy’s nostrils flare as he summons enough strength not to punch the prat’s lights out. “Someone I don’t have to pay,” he answers, coolly. “Must be a foreign concept, huh, bruv?”

The death glare on Charlie’s rat face is spectacular, made even better with how utterly dumbstruck he appears while Digby tries to muffle his snickering. Instead of a verbal or physical threat, Charlie stalks off, his footsteps angrily hitting the floor.

He passes by Harry without a hello or acknowledgement of his presence, something that confuses Eggsy’s lover as he shuffles over to their area. “Charlie seems to be in a mood,” he observes.

“Isn’t he always?” Eggsy counters innocently, earning an dramatic eye roll from Harry while Digby snort-laughs all the way to the galley.

He leaves work at six and takes a cab to an address Harry texted him during a team meeting. It’s in a part of London that can only be described as hole-in-the-wall or kitschy, perhaps. _Very bohemian,_ he imagines Chester dourly commenting while sniffing the air and looking around in distaste.

Eggsy breathes a sigh of relief because fancy places always make him feel like he’s intruding. He’s not one for elaborate place settings and fine china, but pubs with water-stained silverware and stale beer wafting into his nostrils.

“You look rather lost,” Harry says, appearing out of nowhere. He’s leaning against the restaurant, a quiet Turkish establishment, looking like James Bond, all dapper and handsome and his eyes only for Eggsy.

He grins. “Yeah, I’m waitin’ for my date,” the architect tells him. “Nice-lookin’ bloke. Reminds me of that chap who played Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice_.”

“The Keira Knightley film or BBC serial?” Harry questions, coming into Eggsy’s personal sphere. He caresses his cheek and kisses him gently on the mouth. “Been wanting to do that since Monday.”

Eggsy nods, staring into Harry’s eyes. “Me too,” he confesses, his lips catching against his lover’s. “Mind if we do it again?”

His question is met with another kiss. It’s deeper this time; Harry coaxes his mouth open with a slip of tongue and a series of nips along Eggsy’s bottom lip. He moans into the older man, allowing him entrance into the heated cavern of his mouth.

A hand presses against his tailbone, drawing his body in closer until Eggsy is pressed into Harry’s chest. He slips his arms around his lover’s waist, encompassed by the folds of his coat, as the kiss deepens. Fingers come to the nape of his neck, squeezing it soothingly.

“We have reservations,” Harry tells him when he pulls back, Eggsy following after his lips.

“We could always skip dinner.”

Harry makes a disgruntled noise. “ _No_ ,” he says, wrapping an arm over the span of the young man’s shoulders and guiding him towards the restaurant’s entrance. “I said I was taking you to dinner, which I plan on doing this evening.”

“What ‘bout later?” Eggsy asks as Harry opens the door for him. “When you test that theory ‘bout my mouth?” His butt cheek is grabbed and he yelps in surprise as Harry pinches it.

Harry is grinning when he whirls around. “All in due time, darling,” he assures. “But now we are going to get to know one another over a nice meal.”

Eggsy hasn’t been on a proper date in ages—probably since before he began his master’s program—and even then, they weren’t as comfortable as the one he’s on with Harry. He finds that the conversation flows easily between them; any pauses are filled with laughter or the consumption of their meal. When they touch, it’s never awkward or accidental, but almost like foreplay before the actual act.

Harry tells him about himself—the things that aren’t listed on his resume or the company website: his tales from boarding school, how he met Merlin (crew tryouts at Cambridge, as the story goes), and his diabolical plan to seduce Eggsy from months ago.

“I thought you started fancyin’ me after the first meeting with Valentine,” the young man questions, watching Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

He shrugs. “I lied,” he states, his eyes twinkling in mischief. “Though I cannot pinpoint the exact date of when my feelings for you became less than professional, it was certainly before that meeting. What happened during it cemented my attraction.”

“Well,” Eggsy says after a long moment. “I fancied you from the start. You walkin’ into the staff meetin’ all late and oblivious to Chester havin’ an aneurysm.” He chuckles at the memory. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you, guv.”

“The feeling is mutual, darling,” Harry assures. “I must confess I knew of you from Merlin—all secondhand stories, of course. He told me about this brilliant little shit in his summer studio and I had never seen the man so excited about anything.”

Eggsy snorts. “Except for Arsenal F.C.,” he reminds. “He goes arse over tits for ‘em!”

“Don’t remind me,” the older man grouses, rolling his eyes. “He got us thrown out of a pub once; picked a fight with a Manchester United fan and threw a chair through the window.”

“No!” Eggsy exclaims, eyes wide as Harry nods. “When was this? At Cambridge?”

Harry shakes his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he sheepishly grins. “Two years ago.”

“Bloody hell!” Eggsy gasps. He’s utterly floored because it’s _Merlin_ for Christ’s sake, who happens to be his moral compass for many things. “You two are downright mad! Absolutely bonkers!”

His lover snorts. “How did I get lumped in with him?”

“He’s your mate, that’s how,” the young man counters. “I even bet you handed him the chair.”

“No, _that_ was James Lance,” Harry corrects. “I held his beer, thank you very much.”

Eggsy stares at him for a moment before losing himself to a fit of laughter. He laughs and laughs until tears are pooling at his waterline and his face aches.

Later, when they are in Harry’s bedroom and removing each other’s clothing, Eggsy finds himself seated on the mattress as he pushes his lover’s trousers and underwear down his body. He presses a path of open mouthed kisses from belly to hip, thinking that this is the best date he’s ever been on.

Eggsy must say it aloud for Harry runs his fingers through his hair before tilting his chin up. “What was that, darling?” he inquires, voice hoarse from the young man’s actions. In the lamplight of his bedroom, Harry is all gorgeously disheveled. His kiss swollen mouth quirks. “What did you say?”

“Hm?” Eggsy hums, looking at him from under a fan of lashes. He nips at Harry’s palm. “Was sayin’ this is the best date I’ve been on.”

His lover’s expression changes, from heated to something else entirely. It’s soft, fond even; Eggsy isn’t certain of how to describe it.

“You are extraordinary,” Harry murmurs lowers his lips to the young man’s. “Absolutely extraordinary.”

Eggsy blushes under the attention that his lover pays to his body; how Harry never ceases touching him, how he moves limbs, how his stare lingers upon the young man’s face. He wants to remind the gentleman of testing their theory, but finds his mouth preoccupied with another pressed against it and his wrists anchored to the mattress by one of Harry’s hands.

Warm fingers trail along his flank to his calf, nails dragging over his skin and leaving it tingling in their wake. Harry lifts Eggsy’s leg over his hip, kneading a thumb over his ankle before he uncaps the lube. Two slick fingers rub against his puckered entrance, teasing each sensitive ridge and wetting it sufficiently.

Eggsy gasps into Harry’s mouth as he’s breached with a single digit, his body tightening around the welcomed intrusion. He arches into the curve of his lover’s torso, fingers attempting to grasp the hand pinning them to the bed.

“How lovely you are,” Harry comments as he preps Eggsy’s hole, first with a single finger and when he’s ready, then two. His thumb presses against the young man’s perineum, massaging his prostate from the inside out and keeping with Eggsy’s bucking hips.

Grasping the comforter, the architect cries out as he throws his head from side to side. Beads of precum pool from his throbbing cock onto his belly, wetting the fine hairs below his navel. “Harry,” Eggsy chokes out, prying his eyes open. “You’re gonna make me cum, bruv.”

“I daresay that’s the point,” the older man tells him, increasing the pressure of his fingers. He grins as his lover keens, torn between pulling away and pressing himself onto Harry’s hand. “Do you know that you turn a lovely shade of pink when you’re close to cumming, darling?” He lowers his head to one of Eggsy’s nipples and uses the very tip of his tongue to barely touch it.

Eggsy moans, his body trembling as his groin begins to tighten. “Fuck me,” he whimpers.

“Soon,” Harry assures. His tongue drags over the young man’s nipple, swirling and teasing while his fingers continue fucking Eggsy.

He meets each thrust, unable to stop himself as his orgasm draws nearer and nearer. Eggsy is all anticipatory sounds and panting breaths until Harry manages to finally punch out his release.

It’s an out of body experience as pleasure comes after each wave, pushing Eggsy further away from coherency. He can feel each pulse of semen as it leaves his cock, staining his torso and commingling with sweat. The awareness of it all comes from a distance along with a litany of Harry’s name falling from his lips.

Eggsy’s hole still clenches as his lover slides into him, his length wrapped up in lube and a condom. He groans at the sensation of being penetrated by something larger than two very capable fingers.

A pair of lips seek his and find them as Harry moves inside of the young man, plunging in fast and hard and deep. The flared head of his cock glances off Eggsy’s overstimulated prostate with each swipe, sending frissons of pleasure up and down his spine.

“Eggsy,” Harry moans all filthy as damp hair falls over his eyes.

Even during sex, the gentleman is beautiful and moves with a certain elegance that is purely second nature. From the way his muscles move under his sweaty skin to the blissed-out expression on his face when he cums with a final thrust of his hips.

The pressure of Harry’s forehead against his collarbone is still there minutes later when Eggsy has come back to himself. Hot breath curls over his damp skin, followed by the movement of his lover rolling off him and onto the mattress.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks once he’s put the soiled condom in the trash. He goes to brush his thumb against Eggsy’s cheek.

The young man nods, tilting his head into the older man’s caress. “Just had my brains fucked out,” he replies with a lazy grin.

“Oh?” his lover inquires, smiling as he props his head up against a fist. “Such a shame, then, as I wanted to hear your thoughts on global affairs, darling.”

Eggsy glares at him. “Sod off,” he grouses, pushing at Harry’s arm while the older man laughs. “You should be glad I can put a thought together, let alone full sentences!”

Harry reaches for him, pulling Eggsy to his chest. “Oh you poor dear,” he teases while the young man squirms in the circumference of his arms. “So mistreated, you are.”

“Bloody right!” he exclaims in a huff. “Have to watch you roamin’ ‘bout the office, lookin’ like sex on a fuckin’ stick and can’t do anythin’ about it for days. Do you have any idea how tired my hand is?”

Brushing back Eggsy’s mussed up hair, Harry nods and goes to kiss him on the neat tip of his nose. “Clearly, you have no idea what effect you have on me,” his lover says. “You make it very difficult to concentrate, especially now that I’ve seen you naked.”

“Havin’ fantasies ‘bout havin’ me on your desk?” the young man jokes, resting his head upon the engineer’s chest. He feels the vibration of Harry humming in agreement. “Quick and dirty before someone sees us?”

A hand comes to rest upon his hip. “I was thinking more along the lines of after everyone’s gone home for the evening and slowly taking you apart while you’re bent over in my office.” Harry squeezes the joint. “And then bringing you back here for more of the same.”

“Bloody hell,” Eggsy whispers, shivering as he lifts his head to look upon his lover. “You can’t go around puttin’ ideas like that in my head. I’m impressionable, you know.”

Harry rolls his eyes and purses his mouth into a lovely pout that Eggsy wants to nip at. “ _Impressionable_ ,” he scoffs. “You, my darling boy, are anything but.”

 

* * *

 

So they begin to quietly date.

Eggsy has always been attracted to older partners, probably because he had to grow up at such a young age. His first girlfriend was year ahead of him in school and the first chap he slept with—actually, the first person he slept with _period_ —was already at university while he was still in sixth form.

Then there was Tilde, a Swedish bird he met during his first year at the Bartlett. She was eight years his senior and far more experienced than he when it came to all sexual matters. A lovely and leggy blonde with bright blue eyes and a sunny disposition, Tilde educated Eggsy in many things and when their relationship was over a year or two later, they parted on friendly terms.

Occasionally, they still text and update each other on their lives; perhaps grab a drink when she’s in London and end up in her hotel room for old time’s sake.

It’s different with Harry, who is more experienced in other matters of life that don’t necessarily pertain to sex. He is sophisticated and worldly in a way that Eggsy isn’t used to; the knowledge inside of Harry’s beautiful head continuously blows the young man away.

From wines to obscure history, the engineer fills their outings with unique anecdotes and a dry wit that makes Eggsy laugh until his face hurts.

They go to tiny holes in the wall—places that he’d never guess that Harry would know about—and sometimes out of town to bed and breakfasts tucked into lush surroundings in the countryside. There, Harry whisks Eggsy into the posh world that is unfamiliar to him. Where there are two-hundred-pound-a-plate dinners and fancy dress codes and bottles of wine whose price exceeds the amount in his savings.

Then there are the times that Eggsy treats Harry to street vendor food and hearty beers in dingy pubs or cooks him dinner in his amazing kitchen before popping a movie into the DVD player.

“How did you become such a good chef?” his lover asks while munching on diced bell peppers. It’s been three months since their relationship began and Harry still looks as devilishly handsome in a dark grey jumper as he did the first time Eggsy saw him.

Eggsy shrugs as he checks on the stir fry simmering on the stove. “My mum,” he starts to explain, snatching the cup of bell peppers from Harry’s greedy fingers, “used to let me help her in the kitchen. Got it from her, I suppose.”

“And your father?”

He shrugs again. “He liked to sing,” Eggsy replies, tossing the cup’s contents into the stir fry. “The Beatles were his favorite. Sometimes he’d switch it up with some Duran Duran or Sinatra.”

The sound of a stool scraping against the floor and Harry’s footsteps follow. He can smell his lover come up behind him and wrap his arms around Eggsy’s middle. A kiss comes next, to his neck first and then his hair. “You never talk about them,” Harry mentions, his voice low in the shell of the young man’s ear.

“Most people don’t like to bring it up,” Eggsy counters, the words coming out harsher than he intended. Swallowing, he sighs. “Either it makes them uncomfortable or they think I don’t want to think about it.”

“Do you?”

“Dunno,” Eggsy admits. “I only got six years with ‘em before some drunk plowed into their car. I don’t remember much about them, just flashes, but I can tell you everything ‘bout that night. Could tell you that Take That was on the radio and that mum was singin’ along while dad was laughin’ at her.” He pauses to turn down the burner and check on the stir fry. It would be just his shit luck if he burnt their dinner. “He was wearin’ the sweater we got him as an early Christmas gift; it was this forest green colour my mum thought looked nice on him.”

Harry’s grasp briefly tightens. “I didn’t realize that you were with them,” he says.

“Not somethin’ I bring up,” Eggsy tells him quietly. “I just remember headlights comin’ towards us and glass breakin’. Next time I knew, this officer—young bloke, too—was stickin’ his head through the back window to undo the seatbelt.” He pictures the flashing red and blue lights reflecting off falling snow, wondering why the car was suddenly so cold and quiet. “My mum and dad died on impact and all I got was a cut on my forehead; didn’t even need stitches.”

He is turned around, slowly as if he’s suddenly breakable, until Eggsy is facing Harry. The expectant pity is there, like an old friend, but there is also admiration and fondness in his lover’s eyes.

It makes him uncomfortable; pity he can handle.

Harry caresses his cheek before cupping it in his palm and pressing their foreheads together. “You are truly amazing,” he whispers. “And I love you.”

Eggsy stares at him, dumbstruck, and finds himself blinking rapidly. “You love me?” he questions, uncertain if the older man has heard him.

“Yes,” Harry assures. “Very much, in fact.”

He nods at this. “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?”

Harry laughs—the type of laughter that is not meant to taunt, but of affection. “Yes, my darling,” he says. “This means I’m your boyfriend, though I prefer the term _partner_ as neither of us are _boys_.”

“Speak for yourself,” Eggsy quips, kissing Harry’s cheek before getting back to their dinner. “I’m a young buck, as it turns out, and have many years to drive you up a wall and love you back.”

His boyfriend swats his bottom as he passes by to grab plates and silverware. “Thank goodness for small favors.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re looking rather chipper,” Merlin mentions over brunch.

Eggsy is in the middle of chewing his toast when the observation leaves his mentor’s mouth and glances up to find the man staring at him from over the rim of his glasses. “As opposed to?” he asks when he’s swallowed.

“Your usual self,” the older man replies, all cheeky like with a grin to match. He dodges a balled-up napkin thrown as he chuckles.

“Wanker,” Eggsy grouses, a frown marring his face. “So what if I’m a bit more chipper than usual?”

Merlin eyes the young man for a bit and finally shrugs as he continues eating. “Nothing wrong with it,” he says. “It’s a good look on you, is all.”

“What’s a good look?” Roxy inquires as she sits down at the table, holding another pitcher of sangria. Percy and James are following behind her, each clutching mugs of beer.

“Apparently, I look rather chipper,” Eggsy tells her, shooting a glare in Merlin’s direction as Roxy sits beside him.

She inspects him once she’s poured herself more sangria. “You _do_ look a bit happier than usual,” she finally comments. “Is work going well?”

“It’s work,” he mumbles, stabbing his Eggs Benedict with his fork. “Valentine is…well…ridiculous as usual and driving Harry mad. Chester is a classist old coot and I hope Charlie gets pushed in front of a moving train. But at least Digby isn’t as much of a tosser as his mate.”

James snorts. “You mean _Chaz_ ,” he mocks, nudging Percy in the side. They both laugh, as either man is wont to do in each other’s company. “Kids say the darndest things, don’t you agree, Merlin?”

“I prefer to keep my opinion of this conversation, thank you very much,” the man states, most of his attention on his meal.

Percy makes a face. “You’re no fun when you’re hungry,” he complains. Turning back to Eggsy, he leans in and says, “Are you getting laid?”

The young man chokes on his drink and coughs, feeling sangria burning his windpipe _and_ nostrils, causing his eyes to water. Wheezing, Eggsy grabs a napkin while Roxy pats his back and curses at her brother.

“Percival!” she snaps. “Were you raised in a barn? What is wrong with you?”

Bless him, Percy raises his hands in surrender. “I was just asking a question, Rox! Honest!”

“You should at least wait until he’s done swallowing, Perc,” James says, sympathetic to Eggsy’s plight. He passes him a glass of water. “You alright, mate? I don’t need to phone nine-nine-nine, do I?”

Eggsy shakes his head. “Nah,” he rasps. “I’m fine.” Under the table, he kicks Percy in the shin with no remorse and delights in the resulting yelp. “You’re a terrible mate; askin’ if I’ve gotten laid while I have a drink in my mouth!”

“I was just asking!” Percy whines. He goes to rub his shin. “That bloody hurt, Unwin!”

He smiles victoriously. “Good,” Eggsy tells him. “That was the point, yeah.”

“But are _you_ getting laid?” James asks, now curious. He raises a brow and inspects the young man with his blue eyes. Merlin smacks him upside the head. “Oi!”

“Right back at you, Lance,” he grumbles over the sound of Roxy and Eggsy’s laughter. “You ought to know better than to pry into a man’s love life.”

James frowns. “I’m an open book.”

“Open for business, he means,” Percy counters, grinning. He pokes James in the cheek before kissing him in the spot left slightly red by his finger. “Only for me, of course.”

The other man pecks him on the forehead. “Of course,” he echoes, scooting closer to his partner.

So here’s the thing: Eggsy had a feeling that James and Percy were a couple from the time his first week at Kingsman ended.

They were _always_  together and even shared a flat. As it turned out, they also shared a bed and have done so for the last decade. When he caught them holding hands during a night out with Roxy, Ryan, and Jamal, Eggsy wasn’t all that surprised.

“Get a room,” Roxy groans, launching a French fry at her brother’s boyfriend. She turns to Eggsy. “I have to put up with this during the holidays and anytime these two visit mum and dad with me.”

James picks up the fry and begins munching on it. “You _love_ me,” he tells her, a charming grin across his lips. “I’m the other older brother you never wanted.”

“Don’t remind me,” she teases, winking at him.

Later on in the afternoon and sans the company of their friends, Eggsy and Merlin are tucked into a dusty corner of a used bookstore. He is looking through the pages of _Pride and Prejudice_ , marveling at the aged paper and notes written into the margins.

“Jane Austen?” Merlin comments, glancing over the young man’s shoulder. “Never took you for a fan.”

Eggsy closes the book with a shrug. “Thought that someone I know might like it is all.”

“Does this someone have something to do with your change in mood?” his mentor questions, his brows rising over his forehead.

“You’re a nosy bastard; has anyone told you?” Eggsy deflects as his cheeks take on a faint blush. He shoves the book under his armpit. “Completely incapable of mindin’ your own business, you are!”

Merlin scowls at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I’m just _asking_ , you tit,” he tells him. Shaking his head, he wanders towards another section. “You’re tighter than a virgin’s arsehole.”

Eggsy emits a strangled— _and_ offended because what the hell does Merlin know about his arse —sound from his mouth and follows after the older man. “That’s disgusting!” he snips once he’s caught up with his mentor. “And why are you so curious?”

“Why are you so paranoid?” Merlin counters, his tone very off the cuff, as he’s busy skimming through a biography on some old coot.

“Not paranoid,” he grumbles while crossing his arms over his chest. A pair of hazel eyes glances over at his person, skeptical and knowing Eggsy all too well. “Just don’t wanna jinx things.”

Merlin snorts. “Paranoid,” he mutters.

He dwells on his mentor’s accusation once he arrives back at his flat, reasoning that his paranoia is justified because it _just is_. Eggsy isn’t certain about how his friends will react to him dating someone who’s half again his age _and_ his boss.

And judging by the way his life has gone, it will probably end up being a disaster.

Eggsy is dragged out of his head by his mobile ringing - Harry’s ringtone to be exact. Grinning like a loon, he answers the call. “I bought you something,” he tells his boyfriend in lieu of a proper greeting.

“You did?” Harry says. “And what might that be?”

He runs his fingers over the book’s hardcover, tracing the faded letters. “Well, it’s not a paperweight and that’s for certain.” Eggsy listens to his boyfriend’s amused chuckle and finds his heart fluttering at the sound. “You mind if I pop on by?”

“It just so happens that I missed you terribly and was calling to see if you’d like to come over,” Harry replies over the sound of him chopping.

Eggsy chuckles at this. “Are you cooking me dinner?”

“Possibly,” his boyfriend says, a bit aloof. “You’ll only find out if you make an appearance.”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” he tells Harry. “Just need to pack a bag.”

Harry scoffs. “Nonsense. I just did a wash and you have plenty of clothes to wear.”

“Well then, I’ll see you soon,” Eggsy teases before ending the call and rushing out to the tube with Harry’s gift in a paper bag.

He arrives at Harry’s front door just after six and is greeted by the older man wearing an apron over his jumper and denims, looking as handsome as ever. “Waitin’ on someone, were you?” Eggsy teases as he crosses the threshold into his boyfriend’s arms.

“Hm, yes,” Harry says, burying his nose in the young man’s hair. “This cheeky little shit that I happen to be madly in love with.”

“Madly, you say?” Eggsy inquires, glancing up at him. “That sounds serious, guv. May want to get it checked out.”

Harry nods. “Indeed.” He kisses his boyfriend’s forehead. “I’m just finishing up in the kitchen.”

Grilled chicken and vegetables permeate through the air of the mews house, growing stronger as they enter the room where the source lies. Eggsy is surprised to find that Harry has made fajitas from scratch - everything from guacamole to the tortilla is laid out on the counter and contained in bowls or plates.

“Bloody hell,” the young man comments in awe. “You went all out! Like walkin’ into Nando’s or summat.”

His boyfriend laughs as he guides Eggsy by the hips towards the counter. “Have you ever been to Nando’s?”

“Nah,” he admits, setting Harry’s gift on the counter and looks over their meal. “Roxy keeps tellin’ me ‘bout it—says it’s the best Mexican food she’s had.” He winks at the older man. “I reckon she hasn’t tried your cookin’ or she’d change her mind ‘bout that!”

Harry smiles modestly. “You have a bias towards my cooking, darling.”

“Amongst other things,” Eggsy agrees before remembering the book. He motions his head towards the bag. “You want to wait until after dinner for your gift?”

“I admit, I am curious about what you got me,” Harry says as he reaches for the bag and inspects it. “A bookstore?”

Eggsy nods. “Just a little somethin’,” he explains, watching his boyfriend open the parcel. Harry removes the book from the bag and inspects it as if it was an ancient artifact. “I saw it and thought of you.”

“Very apt,” the older man says, smiling. He rifles through the pages, chuckling at the previous owner’s scribbles and drawings. Leaning forward, Harry kisses Eggsy’s cheek. “I love it, darling. Thank you.”

He turns his head and presses his lips against his boyfriend’s. “You’re welcome,” Eggsy murmurs, drawing Harry to him by the edges of his apron. He licks his way into the older man’s mouth, teeth tugging on his bottom lip and kneading the flesh until Harry moans.

While his tongue brushes against his boyfriend’s, Eggsy absently muses that he tastes so fucking good. Wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, he deepens the kiss, wanting to sink into him until they become one entity.

Two very capable hands grope his bum, squeezing each cheek through the material of his pants. Eggsy gasps into his boyfriend’s mouth as he’s pulled into an embrace. Fingers sneak under the hem of his shirt, touching skin and the waistband of his jeans, which loosen moments later.

“What ‘bout dinner?” Eggsy questions, closing his eyes when Harry’s lips find a sensitive spot on his neck. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Harry nods against him. “Famished,” he states hoarsely. Guiding the young man out of the kitchen and towards the office. “But not for food, darling.”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy mewls as they enter the office with its red paint and _Daily Mail_ front pages in frames that adorn the walls. It’s an inside joke between his boyfriend and Merlin; something to do with a bet gone wrong and a tradition of collecting the rag’s cover pages when something silly happens.

It’s neither here nor there, for he’s stripped naked by the desk and sinks to his knees where Eggsy unzips Harry’s trousers. He finds the older man’s cock swollen and heavy between underwear-covered thighs, the fabric smeared with precum droplets.

He inches Harry’s underwear low enough to reach inside and remove his erection to admire it. From the very second he laid eyes on his lover, Eggsy thought him to be truly gorgeous, and his cock is no exception. It’s longer than his own—not unexpected as Harry towers over him at one hundred and eighty-seven centimeters—and thick; the kind of cock that you feel for days after sex of any type.

The perfect shade of pink surrounded by dark brown curls. The foreskin hides the flare of his head within its folds and is seated upon a pair of bollocks that Eggsy enjoys licking and sucking.

A cock that anyone would want to pleasure continuously with hands, mouth, and arsehole.

“No, Eggsy,” Harry tells him when he goes to remove his lover from his underwear. The smile on his face is all self-satisfied and lusty - he knows the younger man enjoys the act. “Focus, darling.”

With a cheeky wink, Eggsy trails his tongue up the older man’s length. The taste of him—of Harry Hart himself—is stronger than the rest of his body, salty and sweet if that’s even possible. He runs his tongue up and down the shaft, starting from the root and inhaling the musk that settles there to the flared ridge of his head peeking out from his foreskin where pearly fluid gathers.

It’s inviting and his, so Eggsy tongues the slit while Harry chokes out a cut-off version of his name. His hands bury themselves into his hair, massaging the young man’s scalp as Eggsy’s mouth drifts and swirls over the tip of him.

“Just your mouth, darling,” Harry groans. “God, Eggsy, like that.”

Eggsy whimpers in reply, closing his lips over his head and sucking at length. He flicks his tongue, rubbing it over the spot where Harry’s cockhead meets his shaft; a small part of him that causes the gentleman to come undone. He delights in the shaky breath that passes through his lover’s mouth and continues his ministrations, testing various paces and depths.

Harry’s fingers tighten and tug on his fine strands, allowing the young man’s bobbing head to set the motion of them. When Eggsy glances up, he finds his lover on the verge—all jaw slacked, saliva slick lips, flushed cheeks. He wants to touch Harry with his hands; to feel the heat of his cock against his palm and the weight of his bollocks when he cups them.

“Come here,” the older man intones, rubbing his thumb over Eggsy’s cheekbone.

He ends up on the surface of Harry’s desk, arching into his boyfriend’s body while they have a slow, leisurely fuck. It’s just them, four red walls covered with framed newspapers, and the sound of their lovemaking.

Later on in the evening, Eggsy thinks he could get used to this as he lies in bed and listens to Harry washing up before they turn in.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until the mattress shifts and adjusts to his boyfriend’s weight. The young man stretches under the covers before rolling onto his back, watching Harry as he sets his glasses down on the nightstand. “Hello,” Eggsy greets.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry tells him as he turns off the bedside lamp before bending forward to kiss his forehead. “Go back to sleep, darling.”

Eggsy nods tiredly, scooting himself closer to his boyfriend’s side. “Was waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, settling his cheek against a broad shoulder.

“Hmm, you were?” the older man whispers, to which the lad nods. He chuckles softly, taking the moment to wrap his arms around him. “I always sleep better when you’re here.”

Eggsy makes a sound of agreement. “Me too. My bed feels too big when I’m back at the flat.”

“As does mine,” Harry comments.

They lapse into silence and Eggsy is dozing off again when he hears Harry’s baritone through the darkness.

“Perhaps,” he says. “You should move in with me.”

Now Eggsy’s wide awake with his heart pounding in his chest. “What?” he squawks, sitting up. “Move in? With you?” The light flicks on and he’s staring right at Harry, all wide-eyed and startled. He thinks that his boyfriend, however lovely he is, has had a lapse in judgment - it’s the only thing that makes sense. “You serious?”

Harry seems a bit startled by his sudden reaction, though it quickly goes away. “Yes,” he tells Eggsy. “I am quite serious.”

“But,” Eggsy rasps, shaking his head. “We haven’t even better together for six months!”

The gentleman raises a brow. “Then move in next month. You’ll be able to give your flatmates ample warning for them to find someone to replace you.”

“It’s _me_ ,” Eggsy counters, as if this is sound reason. He’s sputtering while trying to processing the whirlwind in his mind into actual thoughts. “Why would you want to be livin’ with _me_? You could have anyone!”

Harry frowns at this and takes the young man into his arms, clasping both hands around his shoulders. “You think far too little of yourself,” he tells Eggsy, all stern like a schoolmarm. He goes to caress the young man’s cheek, running his thumb over it. “I must tell you how extraordinary you are more often.”

“What about work? They’ll know somethin’ is goin’ on when I change my address!”

“We’ll get you a post box or make up a story about how you needed a new place on short notice,” Harry reasons, thumbing the soft point of Eggsy’s chin.

He huffs a sigh, his eyes dancing around the room. “What about my things?” Eggsy asks, gesturing to the already furnished house. “Where am I gonna put ‘em?”

“In our home, obviously,” Harry answers. He tilts his head, inspecting the young man. “That is, if you want it to be.”

“Of course I do!” Eggsy shrieks, incredulous. “Are you mad? I _hate_ bein’ away from you —in that sort of rom-com way. I _nearly_ pine for you, guv! Do you know that?” He draws in a breath, followed by another until he can speak without yelling. What the neighbors are thinking, Eggsy has no idea —other than he’s utterly lost his mind. About Harry, of course. “Yes, I want to move in with you.”

Harry’s lips find his own and he closes his eyes, relishing the gentle kiss. “Good,” he whispers. “I thought I was going to have to convince you.”

“None needed,” the young man assures. “Don’t you realize that you’ve got me wrapped ‘round your finger?”

The response to his question is another kiss.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy begins the process of moving out.

He sits Ryan and Jamal down with a homemade dinner to soften the blow. They’ve always loved his chicken parmesan and he figures if he pairs it with a nice bottle of wine, his mates will be supportive and happy for him.

Not that they are anything but still though. Eggsy is the logical one who rarely falls head over heels for any bird or bloke, let alone wanting to move in with them.

 _Plus_ neither of his mates has met Harry. They know that this boyfriend of his must exist because Eggsy is prone to disappearing for the weekend, coming back with love bites and a well shagged look about him.

As they sit around the kitchen table and talking about their days, Eggsy is finally brave (i.e.: _drunk_ ) enough to spill the beans. “So, I have a bit of announcement to make,” he starts off saying while his fingers play with his napkin. “My chap asked me to move in with him and I said yes.”

Jamal coughs as he’s mid-gulp of his wine. “Bloody hell! Are you serious?” he rasps, pounding his chest while Ryan slaps his back.

“Yeah,” Eggsy tells them. He tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his insides turning into a series of knots, but fails. “Are you mad?”

“No!” his mates immediately shout, shaking their heads. Ryan nudges Eggsy in the side with a grin. “Just surprised is all,” he explains, glancing over at Jamal.

The other lad nods in agreement. “Surprised and happy for you, bruv,” he says. “Even though we haven’t met this fella.”

Bless Jamal and all his eccentricities, but the bloke is as subtle as a bull in a china shop. Eggsy rolls his eyes at the comment. “You’ll meet Harry when you lot help me move.”

“Oh!” Ryan shouts, clapping his hands. “We’ve got a name!” He turns to Jamal for a high five, to which they both laugh at their friend’s expense.

Snorting, Eggsy downs the rest of his drink. “I’ve never been one to kiss and tell, unlike some people who shall remain nameless,” he ribs, looking right at Jamal.

“I do not, you lyin’ bastard!” he bellows while Eggsy and Ryan laugh at him. Scowling, Jamal crosses his arms over his chest and slumps against his seat. “What about Tilde, then?”

“The only reason we found out ‘bout her was because they was havin’ sex in the living room when we walked in from the pubs,” Ryan counters, snickering. “And she wanted to keep goin’ while our poor Egg was ‘bout to die from embarrassment. Didn’t want us to know he’s a wild one in bed, yeah?”

Eggsy shoves his other mate, blushing a lovely shade of pink. “Fuck off,” he mutters, remembering that whole event quite vividly.

“What’s this Harry like?” Jamal questions, reaching over with the bottle of wine to refill Eggsy’s glass. “Or are we gonna have to find out while you’re ridin’ him in front of the telly?”

“God, no!” he shouts over Ryan’s chuckles. He whacks his mate on the arm and groans. “He has a place of his own, which neither of you will have a key to.”

Ryan pouts. “I’m insulted. You don’t trust us, bruv?”

“I trust you to stake out the house in hopes of catchin’ us _in flagrante_ , soddin’ pervs you both are,” he grumbles into his glass and glaring at his flatmates. “Don’t act like you’re not!”

He watches them exchange a knowing glance, both men smiling. “Oh, we definitely are perverts,” Jamal agrees while Ryan nods. “But more importantly, we want to make sure this Harry treats our little Eggsy with the respect he deserves.”

“Yeah,” the other lad states. “If this chap is goin’ to whisk you away, he better be deserving of you!”

Jamal raises his glass. “To Eggsy Unwin,” he toasts while Ryan holds up the bottle of wine and Eggsy follows with his own drink. “The smartest, most generous, and best mate we could have asked for. And his fella, Harry whatshisface, who ought to know that we’ll kick his arse if he hurts you.”

“To Eggsy!” Ryan shouts.

“I hate you both. Don’t even know why I’m mates with you,” Eggsy tells them as they clink their glasses together, not meaning a word of it.

He is able to breathe a bit easier now that Ryan and Jamal have been notified and seem to take the news well. Eggsy knows that they’ll miss him and vice versa, but his mates are also happy for his good fortunes like they’ve always been.

They have seen very little in their mate’s life go accordingly, so for someone to sweep Eggsy off his feet and have him agree to move in with them says a lot to the lads.

Eggsy starts packing up his things and arranging for storage while Ryan and Jamal search for a new flatmate, which they find rather quickly—a chap by the name of Rufus Saville.

He appears very posh when Eggsy first meets him after coming home from work to find his flatmates and Rufus drinking beers and playing video games on the telly. “Oi, oi,” the young man says with uncertainty because the scene before him is rather odd.

“Oi!” Jamal and Ryan greet back, while the former points to the stranger in their living room. “This is Saville, your replacement.”

Rufus stutters at this and stands up to shake Eggsy’s hand. He’s taller by several centimeters and fit in that footballer sort of way with dark hair and grey eyes. “I doubt I’ll be able to replace you,” he says with a shy, dimpled grin. “Name’s Rufus Saville.”

“Eggsy Unwin,” he replies with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Eggsy,” Rufus tells him. “This lot has gone on and on about you. My sister went to the Bartlett, though I reckon she was gone by the time you would’ve started.”

It turns out that even Eggsy likes Rufus; there’s not much not to like about the bloke. He’s friendly and seems to have learned the trick of controlling Ryan and Jamal’s insanity fairly quickly, plus he’s wicked at shooter games.

“I feel like I can breathe,” Eggsy tells Harry over dinner at Nando’s. He’s just spent the day packing up the rest of his room and marking items that will go to storage.

His boyfriend raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, curious. “Too much dust?”

“Cheeky berk,” the young man grumbles, shooting a glare at Harry. “It’s just it’s the last few days before I move into your-”

Harry clears his throat. “ _Our_ ,” he corrects.

“ _Our_ place and up until now, it seemed a bit surreal, yeah?” Eggsy explains. He dips a crisp into salsa, stirring it around while he processes his thoughts. “I can’t believe it’s really happenin’.”

“I can, darling,” Harry tells him, smiling. He reaches across the table to caress the young man’s hand. “I’ve been ticking off the days.”

Eggsy runs his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles. “Been keepin’ a calendar, have you?”

“Perhaps,” the older man answers, giving Eggsy’s hand a loving squeeze. “This weekend I won’t have to dread the hour you have to return to your flat.”

“You’re a romantic, you are,” the young man exclaims. He leans over the table and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Harry Hart, sappy like the rest of us.”

Harry grins at this. “Yes, I can be,” he agrees. “Especially when I have you in bed.”

“Ah, ah,” Eggsy says. “We are doin’ dinner _and_ a film. You ain’t gettin’ me naked until later, guv.”

“What about making out during the film?” Harry asks, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Eggsy pretends to think on it before breaking out into a grin. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

As it turns out, Harry is quite persuasive and they end up snogging in the back of the theater where they won’t disturb anyone. Everything is above the waist, though it doesn’t mean that Eggsy’s blood isn’t set on fire by each kiss and touch.

They leave chuckling through swollen lips and his fingers laced with Harry’s. The night is a bit chilly, though it has no effect on Eggsy’s mood —he’s about to create a life with the man he loves. It’s an incredible feeling to know that by Sunday, he will no longer need to return to his flat as he’ll already be home.

“You look happy,” Harry comments on the way to the tube.

Eggsy shrugs. “Just mad about you is all.”

“Glad to hear it,” his boyfriend whispers just before guiding him into another sweet kiss.

 

* * *

 

It’s Thursday, just after lunch, when Chester calls Eggsy and Harry into his office, which is nothing out of sorts, given the project they are working on.

They head across the floor together, bantering as they are wont to do. The door to Chester’s office is open just enough for a passerby to see the green damask wallpaper and wooden details, all very posh and prestigious as the man who sits inside of it.

Except for Charlie, who casually has his limbs draped over the settee with one of those smug grins that Eggsy longs to knock off his face.

With his fist, obviously.

Chester is seated at his desk, looking like someone took a shit in his coffee. Not unusually as it’s his usual facial expression. “Close the door, gentlemen,” he says rather gravely. He gestures to the two chairs in front of him. “And take a seat if you will.”

Harry and Eggsy exchange a confused glance before they do as they’re told. “I beg your pardon, Chester, but what is the meaning of this meeting?” the former inquires once they are seated.

“A very serious matter has been brought to my attention and it must be dealt with,” their boss replies.

“Has Mr. Valentine decided to pull the plug on the project?” Eggsy questions.

Chester shakes his head. “Thankfully, no,” he says. Shifting in his seat, he pulls something from his pocket—a mobile as it turns out. “It seems that the both of you have decided to throw caution to the wind and disobey a rule that has been set in place at Kingsman Engineers for a reason.” He turns to Harry. “I expected more of you, Harry, especially given your position at this firm.”

“I’m not following,” Harry tells him, frowning.

Eggsy nods in agreement. “Yeah, neither am I.”

The old man slides the mobile across the desk, garish case and all, for Eggsy and his boyfriend’s perusal. Harry takes it, holding the device so that the younger man can peer over his seat.

On the screen is a very clear colored photograph of Harry and himself kissing outside the tube entrance. Eggsy’s arms are wrapped around the older man’s middle, holding him close while his boyfriend is cupping his face with gloved hands.

To anyone else it’s a sweet, candid shot of a couple in love and oblivious to the rest of the world, but, judging by the look on Chester’s face, it’s evidence.

And if Charlie’s sniffled snickering is anything to go by, he’s the arsehole who snapped the photo.

Eggsy can feel every iota in his body burning to throttle that berk within an inch of his life. He wants to ram his fist into Charlie’s stupid rat face until he’s bruised, bloodied, and broken.

“Christ,” Harry whispers, his voice cracking from the shock of it all.

Turning to his boyfriend, Eggsy notices how his hand is trembling and as suddenly as his anger came, it melts into fear. What will happen to them? What will Chester do in light of this discovery?

 _Jesus bloody Christ_ , he thinks. _What about us?_

“Obviously neither of you are denying it,” their boss states, earning both men’s attention. “Do you have anything to say?”

The question is directed at Harry, who is as silent as the grave. His face has lost its color and if Eggsy is honest with himself, he looks ill.

“Well then,” Chester sighs, “the decision is simple - either you end this _relationship_ or you’re both dismissed.”

A strangled noise escapes from Eggsy’s mouth. “You…you can’t…” he stammers, his voice lost as his heart pounds against his chest and roars within his ears.

“I can and I _will_ ,” their boss counters sternly. There is nothing friendly or understanding about Chester King—just a classiest asshole who thinks that Eggsy is below them all. “The choice is yours, gentlemen.”

Just as Eggsy is about to hand in his resignation—because fuck that, he can go work for Merlin rather than this twat—he hears Harry speak.

“We’ll end the relationship,” he states, his voice hollow.

Eggsy feels as if the oxygen has been squeezed right out of his lungs. Harry turns to him, his face all serious and his eyes—usually so warm and loving—are cold. He’s seen that look before, when Harry is determined or in no mood for fucking about.

“And my apologies for trying to bend the rules,” Harry adds. “If you’d excuse me.”

He watches as Chester motions for his principal to leave and it’s then Eggsy realizes that this is actually happening. He turns to Harry’s retreating figure. “Harry,” he rasps, trying to force the man’s name from his throat that’s suddenly too tight.

“As for you,” the old man says, “you’re lucky that Richmond Valentine believes that you walk on water. If I got rid of you, we may as well kiss that contract goodbye.”

Eggsy looks back at Chester with his composure on the barest thread and nods. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.

“Do you need the rest of the day to get yourself in order?” he asks none too nicely. Chester waits for the young man to answer before making an impatient sound and carelessly waving his hand. “Go on; come back on Monday.”

He rises from his seat, limbs trembling. “Thank you, sir,” Eggsy says mindlessly.

“I expect you to be back in office with your head on straight. You hear me, Unwin?” Chester orders. “Consider this your _only_ warning.”

Eggsy is too numb to think of an wise-ass reply or to react to Charlie’s snorts of amusement as he stumbles out of Chester’s office and onto the main floor. He inhales deeply, trying to calm himself, but on a shaky exhale all he wants to do is cry.

Holding back tears, Eggsy rushes to his desk and grabs his things before leaving without a word to anyone because it’s nobody's damn business.


	6. Chapter 6

His feet take him straight to Merlin’s office, and without an appointment.

Not that Eggsy needs one.

It’s also taken him two hours to get there; two hours filled with unanswered text messages to Harry and a phone call that goes straight to voicemail.

As swiftly as Harry Hart let Eggsy into his life, he’s done the same to shut him out, leaving him without a home and a boyfriend. Sodding bastard.

Eggsy secludes himself in an alley as silent tears pour down his face. He attempts to pull himself together and simultaneously curses his lack of common sense for actually believing that he would get his happy ending. He’s managed to regain a measure of sanity by the time he arrives outside his friends’ office, which is truly astonishing given how broken up he feels on the inside.

Eggsy pushes the glass door open, noticing how they still haven’t settled on a name, and steps into a small, airy office just off Whitfield Street. It’s all white walls and light wooden floors. It’s very refreshing and different from the Kingsman space and currently filled with the musical stylings of…

“Is that fuckin’ Neil Diamond?” Eggsy balks as the chorus of “Sweet Caroline” plays over the speakers while James, Percy, and Roxy bop away.

“Oi!” Merlin disagrees, appearing out of thin fucking air. “Do not insult the genius that is Neil Diamond!”

Eggsy scowls. “It’s the worst song ever! Might as well put on the soundtrack for _Xanadu_.”

“It’s a classic!” his mentor counters immediately and frowning like the lad has just insulted the Queen. “So…what do we owe the pleasure?”

He shifts uncomfortably, tugging on the strap of his bag. “Mind if we chat a bit?” Eggsy inquires, looking down at his feet.

“Sure,” Merlin says cautiously, clamping a hand on the lad’s shoulder.

Eggsy is led to a terrace that seems to be under construction, given the furniture and empty plant boxes lined up against the exterior wall. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Sod off,” his mentor tells him as he slides the door shut. He leans against it, arms crossed and looking fairly worried by the lad’s appearance. “You look like shite.”

He nods in agreement. “Had myself a good cry on the way over,” Eggsy admits as he allows his bag strap to slide off his shoulder, not bothering to stop the whole thing to fall to the ground. “I got dumped.”

“Eggsy,” Merlin intones. He makes a ‘tch’ sound of pity, but doesn’t move.

“I was datin’ Harry,” he adds, sitting himself down on a bench. He wants for the older man’s admonishing that never comes, causing him to glance up at Merlin.

His mentor is unable to hide the look of complete astonishment from his features, especially with his jaw hanging like it is.

“You could catch flies with that gob,” Eggsy tries to joke, though it falls flat from the lack of emotion in his voice. He starts to pick at the bench as a way to distract himself while Merlin processes everything.

Merlin makes an aborted sound and pushes himself off the door to go sit by Eggsy. “Harry?” he questions. “Harry Hart?”

Eggsy nods. “One and the same.”

“Bloody hell,” the Scotsman mumbles, still baffled, as it seems. “I never saw that coming.”

“Oi!” the lad snaps. His anger towards Chester flares up and explodes with Merlin at ground zero. “Whatcha tryin’ to say, guv? I’m not good enough for the likes of ‘im?”

Merlin holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa,” he says, shaking his head. “Not at all!” He lays a hand on Eggsy’s shoulder, patting it gently. “I just…I literally never saw that coming and Harry, while he’s chronically late for everything, is a stickler for the rules.”

“Well I know _that_ now,” the young man pouts, jerking his shoulder away from Merlin’s grasp. Tears burn his eyes and throat, though he’s able to keep them at bay for the time being. “Charlie snapped a picture of us when we were out on a date and showed it to Chester.”

More silence follows—it’s the kind that’s uncomfortable and too tense to properly describe. Harry is an old friend of Merlin’s, no matter what his relationship is with Eggsy. They’ve known each other for ages, possibly longer than the lad’s been breathing, and now the Scotsman has been put in an awkward position.

“You don’t need to tell me that I shouldn’t gotten involved with him,” Eggsy says sadly. A tear slips down his cheek, which he is quick to wipe away as he presses his trembling lips together. “I should have known better.”

“Hey, none of that,” Merlin tells him as the comforting weight of his arm slips around Eggsy’s shoulders. “We’re all arseholes when it comes to falling for someone. None of us are immune. What did Chester say?”

The young man swallows against the sob in his throat. “He said…break up or be fired,” he whispers. Sniffling he glances at his mentor and forces out a harsh chuckle. “You can take a stab at which option he chose.”

“Eggsy,” Merlin sighs, speechless. His eyes have darkened as they do when he’s in a less amicable mood and worry tinges his features. “I am…so sorry. More than I can even say—truly.”

“It gets worse.”

“Oh bloody hell,” his mentor curses.

Eggsy feebly grins at Merlin before his expression falls. “I was supposed to move in with him this weekend,” he utters. “So I have no home, no boyfriend, and I have to see him every day at work.” He turns to the older man, eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t go back there. I know you said wait until the design documents are complete, but I can’t…”

“Listen to me, okay?” Merlin pleads, pulling Eggsy into a hug. His hand cradles the back of the young man’s head, massaging his scalp. “You don’t have to go back, alright? Remember you asked me if you could leave if something else happened?”

He nods, recalling their final conversation within the walls of Kingsman Engineers. “Yeah, bruv.”

“I think this constitutes as something else, don’t you agree?” Merlin teases. “I can pay you a bit more than Chester; we’re plenty busy, despite earlier appearances, and the lot of us misses having you around.”

Eggsy closes his eyes, swallowing roughly. “Thank you,” he tells his mentor as they pull apart. “Now I just need to find myself a place.”

“Are you all right on money?” the older man inquires, searching his protégé’s face. “I can loan you some if you need payment for a deposit.”

The young man shakes his head. “My trust came through last year,” Eggsy explains, noticing Merlin’s confusion. “The one that was set up for me when my parents died. I gained majority of it when I turned twenty-five.”

“Eggsy…”

“It’s meant to be used in case of an emergency,” the young man insists, looking down at his lap. “Besides, the Arnolds’ trust was tied into that, so it’s not like I would be hurtin’ terribly if I were to use a bit.”

Merlin frowns. “Just how much is in these trusts?”

“Five and a half million pounds,” Eggsy admits sheepishly. “It was originally six, but there was an education clause, which I used for Bartlett and livin’ expenses.”

The older man laughs. “You ashamed about using it for something good, Unwin?”

“Nah,” he says, tugging at the hem of his button down. “Just weird talkin’ ‘bout it is all. Never told Ryan and Jamal ‘bout it…or anyone, actually.” Eggsy shrugs. “Probably a good thing, if you think ‘bout it, with my mum’s family.”

His dad had been an only child and his parents died long before Eggsy made his debut in the world. His mum’s family, however, were the cold sort of people one read about in Charles Dickens novels. They never understood why their sweet Michelle would want to marry the lowly Lee Unwin. When the young couple had Eggsy, things were still frosty, though slowly improving.

Then they were killed and no one wanted to look after a six year old who stopped speaking, so off to foster care Eggsy went.

Had they known about the trust…well, let’s just say that Eggsy is certain they would have tried to take it for themselves.

“Probably,” Merlin echoes. His hand is pressed the center of Eggsy’s back, rubbing slow circles. “You know,” he says after a few minutes. “I think I know of someone looking for a flatmate.”

The young man perks up. “Yeah? I was just goin’ ask you if I could crash.”

“Well, consider yourself welcomed if it turns out she’s found someone,” his mentor tells him with a grin. He’s already on his feet and at the door, calling for Roxy over ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”.

Roxy comes bounding out with a jovial smile on her face. “What can I help you with?”

“Are you still looking for a flatmate?” Merlin asks.

She raises a brow. “Why, are you looking to move in?” Roxy teases.

“Cheeky little,” Merlin mumbles, gesturing in Eggsy’s direction. “It seems that our friend is in need of a new place on short notice.”

Roxy gapes at him. “What about Ryan and Jamal?” she exclaims, looking horribly worried. “Is everything alright?”

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” his mentor inquires as he takes off his glasses.

“Tell me what?” she asks, looking between Eggsy and Merlin.

The former sighs, shaking his head. “I was datin’ Harry and we were supposed to move in together, but Chester found out and he dumped me, so I need a new place because Ryan and Jamal already have a new bloke movin’ in next week,” Eggsy explains in one breathless sentences.

“And he’s also going to be starting here,” Merlin interjects. He turns to the young man with an apologetic smile. “You forgot to mention that.”

Eggsy shrugs. “It’s a lot to take in, yeah?” He sees that Roxy is about to ask another question. “And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Right,” she says, still confused. She goes to pull Eggsy to his feet and begins to straighten his shirt. Once she’s satisfied, she links arms with him. “Let’s go see the place, shall we?”

Bless Roxy; all business and common sense.

Merlin hands Eggsy his bag. “Start the Monday after next,” he tells him. “Get your living situation sorted out and settled in.”

“Thanks,” the young man says. “Merlin, you’re a fuckin’ genius. You know that, right?”

In reply, he gets an annoyed grunt and shoved back into the office.

 

* * *

 

Roxy’s flat is located in Kildare Gardens, a little section of Notting Hill just a few minutes from the Royal Oak tube station.

Unsurprisingly, it’s a very posh neighborhood comprised of Victorian buildings, all neatly painted and picturesque. Roxy’s building falls into this as well, with its brick façade on the upper stories and classic row house white on the bottom—columns and all. There are even plant boxes on the first level windows facing the street.

Despite their appearances, Eggsy feels welcomed as he follows his mate to her flat. “What happened to Amelia?” he asks.

He’s met Roxy’s former flatmate several times and thought she was nice enough. Tall and willow-like, with her near black hair cut into a bob, and a keen dancer, if memory serves.

“She moved in with her chap about two weeks ago,” Roxy explains as she digs her keys out of her purse. She is victorious and holds up the item in her gloved hand. “Found you! Come along. I’ll put on a pot of tea while you look around.”

The lobby is nicely appointed with tasteful marble floors and light yellow paint on the walls with a rug near the mailboxes. There’s even a vase of flowers on top of an entryway table!

“There are eight units,” she tells him as they take the elevator up to the top floor. “Two to each level. Mum and Dad bought the flat before Percy and I came along; they decided to keep the place as an investment property until I needed a place of my own. I rent from them.”

Eggsy nods. “How much is rent?” he inquires.

“How much did you pay at your flat with Ryan and Jamal?” Roxy asks.

“I pay ‘bout seven-fifty pounds a month.”

Roxy shrugs. “That works for me,” she tells him as the elevator dings, announcing their arrival, and opens onto another floor similar to the lobby. “Your rent would include the standard utilities, plus internet and the telly.”

“What?” Eggsy balks, left wondering what just happened. He follows after her, catching up when she’s unlocking the front door to her flat. “Is that it?”

“I suppose so,” Roxy says, pausing for a moment. “Unless if you want to pay more.”

He shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Well then quit complaining, Unwin, and come inside,” she teases, opening the door.

Eggsy does just that—still baffled by Roxy’s blasé attitude towards the rent—and follows her into the flat.

It’s lovely.

Of course it’s lovely because it’s Roxy Morton’s flat.

The crown moldings, interior doors, and ceilings are painted a pure white, as well as the fireplace which has a flat screen television mounted above it. The walls themselves are a tasteful beige with accents of charcoal where they’re needed, complementing the oak floors.

Shucking off his jacket and messenger bag, Eggsy goes to look at his possible new home and finds himself salivating over the kitchen with its white tiled backsplash and black countertops upon white counters. “Bloody hell,” he groans, peering at the stove. “I may need to cook more often.”

“Please do,” Roxy tells him as she fills up a kettle with water from the sink. “Check out the bedroom. First door on the left—can’t miss it! It’s the one with no furniture.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “Ha, you’re _hilarious_ , Ms. Morton,” he calls over his shoulder.

The furniture is what he’d expected of his friend—classic lines with a modern twist on fabrics or materials, yet comfortable and inviting. Eggsy spots framed photographs of a younger Roxy and Percy with their parents, friends, or various family members.

Even James has managed to wiggle himself into a few.

Amelia’s former room is far bigger than Eggsy’s current living situation and comes with a shelving unit built into the walls. It’s filled with light and he can immediately picture his bed under the window and his desk near the door.

He wanders around, checking out the closet before peeking into the bathroom across the hall and another closet that houses the in-unit washer and dryer.

“What do you think?” Roxy asks from the door. She’s holding two mugs of tea in his hands with a bright smile on her face. “Does it suit?”

Eggsy finds himself nodding. “More than,” he answers. “Could I move in this weekend?”

“You could move in tomorrow if you wanted,” she offers.

“Want to finish our tea while I phone the movers with the address change and then pop over to the bank so I can give you a cashier’s check?” he asks her.

Roxy squeals in delight as she sets the mugs on the window sill and goes to give Eggsy a hug. “This is fantastic!” she exclaims, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Over the course of four hours, Eggsy has gone from single, miserable, and homeless to single, miserable, but at least having a comfortable living situation once he’s placed the check in Roxy’s hand.

Things could have turned out much worse.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, what?” Ryan gasps. “What happened?”

Eggsy sighs, having already explained this to Jamal, who wanted Harry’s address so he could go give him a piece of his mind. “Harry and I broke up, I’m not movin’ in with him, _but_ I am movin’ in with Roxy,” he says as the movers carry his bedroom furniture to the truck.

“Yeah! Keep up, bruv!” Jamal tells him, breezing by with a box in his arms.

Ryan pulls a face. “But everything was fine between you lot just a moment ago,” he sputters, his mind still trying to catch up to the sudden turn of events.

“Well, he changed his mind,” Eggsy mutters. He continues on his way out of the flat with two boxes.

His mate follows. “Bloody hell!” he exclaims as they round the stairs. “That wanker! I’ll give him a good beatin’ if you’d like.”

“I appreciate it. I really do,” Eggsy huffs as he tries to balance his cargo, “but I’d rather you help me with the boxes, yeah?”

Ryan snaps his fingers. “Right-o! I shall fetch your boxes, kind sir!” And he’s running back to the flat.

“Oh, _fuck_ off!” he yells on after his mate’s retreating figure before turning around and nearly crashing into Rufus.

One of the boxes topples off the other and almost falls to the ground until the other young man’s dexterity catches it. “Moving day?” he questions, smiling.

“Nice save, bruv,” Eggsy tells him. “Thanks for catchin’ that.”

Rufus settles the box on his hip. “No problem. I'm just popping by to drop off a video game for Jamal, but it seems I’ve come at a bad time.” He shrugs, taking a survey of the organized chaos of Eggsy’s move. “You need an extra hand?”

“You’re a mate, you are!” he says. “You’re stayin’ for beers and pizza—that’s how I roped Ryan and Jamal into this.”

Moving goes fairly well with only mild cursing and by the time Roxy walks through the door, the kitchen has been taken over by two extra-large pizzas, several six-packs of Guinness, and four hungry young men.

“What kind did you get?” she asks, dumping her purse and jacket at the threshold. Roxy bounds into the room, giving Eggsy a hug.

He shows her his plate. “Heart Attack City and Meat Lover’s Delight.” Eggsy gestures to the boxes, noticing how Rufus’ eyes are glued onto his mate like she’s an angel sent down from the heavens. Raising a brow, he continues on. “Help yourself, Rox. There’s almost too much of it.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she says, grabbing a plate and two slices out of each carton, as well as a beer. Roxy notices Rufus sitting at the table and extends her hand. “I’m Roxy, Eggsy’s flatmate and colleague.”

He shakes it, his cheeks turning pink. “Rufus,” he tells her. “I’m their new flatmate.” Rufus motions to Ryan and Jamal, who wave at them, sending everyone into a fit of laughter.

Eggsy spends the rest of the weekend unpacking and arranging his belongings in his new room when he isn’t breaking down boxes, wondering how the hell he acquired things he doesn’t recall purchasing or changing his address for the second time.

When he’s not doing that, he is glancing at his phone and hoping that it will ring with Harry on the other end.

Harry never phones; his end is as silent as if he never existed.

Between a load of laundry on Saturday night, he goes to the Kingsman office to clean out his desk and leave his resignation on both Chester and Harry’s desks.

The office is empty, the lights dimmed for the cleaning crew and perhaps the night guard who was seated in the lobby when Eggsy came in. As he shoves his things into several cloth bags he poached from Roxy, he feels his ex-boyfriend’s presence is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

He’s numb by this point. His heart's still beating and somehow Eggsy is able to go through the motions of being a functional adult. He hasn’t shed a tear since Merlin’s office, probably because he’s been too busy to dwell on it for long.

Now that he’s in the place he got his heart shattered, Eggsy’s eyes end up peering inside of Harry’s office, which is empty as expected. He stops himself from walking over, opting to continue on with packing because he wants to get this done and without detection, save for two envelopes containing identical letters.

Holding a mug in dire need of washing as he heads to the galley, Eggsy notices Charlie’s protein powder sitting on the twat’s desk. He glances around for prying eyes and walks over, where he sets the mug down and opens the container.

And hocks the biggest loogie he can muster up with his mouth before spitting it inside.

Grinning, Eggsy closes the lid and shakes the container around for a bit, mixing its contents until he’s satisfied.

Just because he doesn’t get to punch Charlie doesn’t mean Eggsy can’t find another—and less immature—way to get back at him.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up at half after six on Monday morning because that’s what time he always gets up during the week.

His body is on autopilot, though Eggsy wants to just lie in bed for the foreseeable future. He remembers Merlin telling him that he has a week to get his affairs in order before his start date, which is _definitely_ happening as Eggsy received his employment paperwork via email.

Dutiful as ever, he filled it out and sent it back by the end of the hour with a note asking if his mentor wanted to grab food and a drink that week.

Roxy is awake and getting ready for work by the sounds of it. The sounds of her bare feet against the floor make it creak every so often.

Eggsy reckons that it will be fun to go through their morning routines and grab a coffee on their way to work, but for now, he wallows under his comforter in a bed that’s far too big without another body alongside him.

There is a gentle knock on his bedroom door, followed by its opening. “Eggsy?” Roxy whispers tentatively.

“Hrm?” he mumbles back, waving an arm to signal that he’s awake. “What’s up?”

She comes to his bed and sits on the edge of the mattress. “I’m heading to work,” she tells him. “You want to come by for lunch? I’ll even get Percy and James to behave themselves.”

“Can I get that in writin’?” he chuckles. Eggsy palms his face and shakes his head. “I think I’m goin’ to have a lie in today, if you don’t mind. I’m knackered.”

Roxy smiles and pats his arm with a nod. “Another day then,” she says. “When I get back, I’ll make you my mum’s baked macaroni and cheese and we can watch _Snog Marry Avoid_ reruns.”

“You’re aces, Rox,” Eggsy tells her, forcing himself to grin. “Go on, before Merlin starts bitchin’ ‘bout what a terrible influence I am.”

She leans over to kiss his forehead. “Call me if you need anything,” Roxy offers.

“I will,” he promises.

Eggsy watches her leave his room, closing his door until there’s only a crack between it and the frame. He stares up at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the tree branches outside dancing in the window. Somewhere in the flat Roxy gets her things as she leaves and locks the front door.

As soon as the top bolt clicks into place, the tears come.

He allows his lips to tremble for a minute or so before a sob comes out, followed by another. Eggsy palms his eyes, ignoring the wetness under his fingertips and silently curses Charlie for being a right prick, Chester for just existing, and Harry for enchanting Eggsy until he fell head over heels in love with him, then discarded him without a single care.

Rolling over to his side, he buries his face into his pillow and cries until he’s so exhausted that all Eggsy can do is sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Eggsy isn’t one to enjoy it when people make a fuss over him, which is an ironic thing given all the times he’s been the center of attention throughout his life.

Whether it be for scholastic accolades, workplace achievements, or being hit on at the club, he shies away from it with a fumbling thank you and blush so red that he could have a rash. It’s gotten easier to manage as Eggsy has grown older, there are times that creep up on him and he finds himself paralyzed with embarrassment.

So he becomes good at faking it—the jolly mood, the wide smile, and modesty. The sentence ‘I’m fine’ is always at the ready in his personal lexicon and sometimes, Eggsy is so good at lying to everyone else he believes it himself.

Save for when it comes to Harry.

He spends the week leading up to his new employment with Merlin alternately sleeping or pretending that he’s sorting himself out when surrounded by his mates. Eggsy can see that he’s not fooling Roxy, who goes out of her way to keep his mind off of things, but she’s also sharper than the lot.

When he allows his façade to fall and she happens to see it, Roxy will give him a playful nudge or hug him from behind, resting her cheek against his back.

She never asks him to talk about it, probably having either asked Merlin, Ryan, and Jamal for advice or figured it out on her own.

Actually…to think of it, no one brings up Harry Hart; not even Percy and James. He suspects that his mentor may have had something to do with that because those two tend to be loose lipped. It’s pure luck that they were able to hide their relationship during the course of their tenure at Kingsman.

His last paycheck, including unused vacation time, arrives in the middle of the week and Eggsy deposits it without much pomp and circumstance before heading back to his bed.

There’s no frantic phone calls from Chester King, begging him to reconsider.

And worst of all, Eggsy never hears from Harry. Not a single text or voicemail; it’s just silence.

It’s so loud and clear that seems to swallow him whole. As Eggsy lies in bed, staring up at his ceiling in a quiet flat, he vows to never fall in love again.

He doesn’t think he can’t bear the pain for a second time.

 

* * *

 

Work becomes the best way to distract him.

Especially because Merlin, Roxy, Percy, and James have decided to make him a principal along with them. On his first morning, he and his flatmate approach the office to find that someone has put a name on the front door.

“Greaves, Morton, Lance & Unwin?” Eggsy balks once he’s recovered from the shock. “Are you all mad?”

Merlin sips his coffee all casual-like and shrugs. “Probably just a bit,” he replies, lips twitching into a bemused smile.

“Also, it was the only name we could agree on,” James adds, shooting Roxy a glare. “Because _someone_ doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

She rolls her eyes. “I am not going to work for a company called Blackadder and Associates, so you can shove that up your arsehole, James.”

“I’ll have you know that _Blackadder_ is an important part of English culture, Roxanne!” James argues as she walks away. He follows; continues to iterate his point despite it being moot.

Eggsy, Percy, and Merlin listen to their bickering for a moment or three before the latter breaks the silence. “Well, it’s already been printed onto our business cards,” he says. “You’ll just have to agree to it on principle.”

“I suppose I’ll have to,” the young man intones.

He turns to the glass door and finds himself grinning at the simple line drawing of an abstract elemental triangle with their names underneath it in a tidy sans-serif font, all done in black. It’s far more attractive than Kingsman Engineering’s garish gold nonsense, and James drew it besides.

“I thought I’d have a few more years before having buy-in,” Eggsy jokes when he turns back to them.

Percy slaps him on the back, laughing. “Now, _that’s_ the spirit, Unwin!” he cheers, ruffling his hair. “He can be our mascot, don’t you think?”

“Oi!” Eggsy counters, squirming out of his colleague’s grasp. “We need to have a principal’s meetin’ before I end up in a chicken suit, yeah?”

Merlin shrugs. “I was thinking more Gunnersaurus,” he mentions, snickering. When the young man glares at him, he holds up his hands. “It just so happens, I think you’d look very fetching in a green fuzz.”

“You’re fired,” Eggsy grumbles, walking off to find Roxy. “Fired, I tell you!”

Just after lunchtime, they settle back into their tasks and work happily amongst each other without having Chester or Charlie lingering nearby to accost them. Music—The Beatles this time around—and chatter fill the office; it’s so unlike their previous place of employment, which at times was so quiet that Eggsy often thought he was in a library.

He works late on his first day and the subsequent ones after, keeping his mind occupied by something— _anything_ —that isn’t Harry Hart. Eggsy also goes in earlier than necessary, sometimes before anyone else has come in, and plugs away while listening to music or streaming Netflix on his computer.

When he’s waiting on client reviews or subconsultants, he fills his free time with running as the weather permits or going to the gym. Eggsy works out until his limbs are shaking and he knows that he’ll be exhausted by the time his head hits the pillow come bed time.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Except for on weekends where he busies himself with his friends and whatever shenanigans they get up to.

They ask how he’s doing and Eggsy lies through his teeth when he says he’s fine. It’s something he taught himself as a child, when he stopped speaking after his parents died.

He learned that people don’t want you if you’re anything but _fine_. Eggsy recalls sitting outside his social worker’s office while his grandparents spoke with her, their voices muffled by the door between them. He knew that they were speaking about him, as he was a popular topic of conversation at the time.

Eggsy knew that his mutism wasn’t common, even as a young boy. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone because they would ask about his mum and dad.

It was all everyone seemed to be asking him about. _Do you miss your mummy and daddy? How do you feel about them dying? What do you remember from that night?_

Angry and grieving, Eggsy hadn’t the vocabulary to tell these well-meaning adults to promptly fuck off. In response, he stopped talking and hoped they would finally get the idea.

Except it backfired in a spectacular fashion; his living family members—his grandparents, an aunt, and two uncles—abandoned him, seemingly without hesitation in the child’s eyes.

So Eggsy learned to lie.

Merlin and Roxy don’t buy it, of course. They look upon him with worried expressions—creased foreheads, darkened eyes, pursed mouths—and refrain from saying anything. He knows that they are around if he needs to talk.

So yeah, he lies and bottles up his feelings, not expecting them to explode.

 

* * *

 

It’s been nearly three months since Eggsy got dumped and he’s on his way to meet his friends at some pub called the Black Prince.

For Percy’s birthday, James has organized a pub crawl to celebrate. Taking the day off work to get a head start with some of their university chums, Eggsy is certain that they will be arse over tits wasted by the time he arrives, but at least it will be entertaining.

Jamal, Ryan, and Rufus are coming along to partake in the debauchery (or in the latter’s case, make moony eyes at Roxy), so Eggsy won’t be lost in a sea of strangers.

His roommate is already there and texting him on when he’ll arrive every two minutes, as Eggsy is coming from the office.

Merlin has decided not to come for whatever reason. He reckons it’s because his mentor is an old man and would rather watch something on the telly than have fun. He did mention something about a previous engagement, though Eggsy wasn’t paying much attention.

It’s not his birthday, so why would he care?

Eggsy shoves his glove covered hands into the pockets of his jacket, muttering to himself about the cold evening as he walks from the office to the tube station. He reckons that a drink and dancing with Roxy will warm him right up when he happens a glance into a restaurant window.

Behind the glass and twinkle lights wrapped around the frame, is a party of ten having a grand old time. He notices Merlin smiling as he brings a wine glass to his lips and has an arm slung around…

_Harry._

He stops mid-step to watch them. Merlin removes his arm from Harry’s shoulder and goes to greet another friend while his ex-boyfriend is joined by another man. Only part of him is visible to Eggsy, his dark hair, trim figure with broad shoulders covered with slick clothing, and the sculpted curve of his face.

And then he kisses Harry on the lips.

It happens in slow motion; the way this bloke leans in, tugging on Harry’s belt loops with a grin and pecks his dimple, followed by his lips. He wraps his arms around his ex’s waist, an action that is met with much enthusiasm by Harry.

That is until he notices Eggsy out of the corner of his eye.

He is snapped out of his reverie and realizes that he’s stopped breathing somewhere along the way. Eggsy chokes on the next inhale, feeling gutted and dizzy as he stumbles down the sidewalk.

The young man remembers kissing Harry like that; in darkened corners of posh bars and restaurants or in the warm confines of his boyfriend’s home. He can recall the glint in those deep brown eyes and the way Harry’s dimple would form as he smiled against Eggsy’s mouth.

He remembers the way he smelled, how his hands felt on his waist or in his hair, and that amused snort of laughter, muffled by their lips.

It used to be his and now it’s not, nor ever will be again.

“Eggsy!” Harry calls from some paces away. He’s running towards him, his coat in disarray as he struggles to pull it on. “Eggsy, wait!”

The young man’s eyes burn with unshed tears as he rounds the corner, trying not to bump into anyone or draw attention to himself.

“Eggsy,” Harry says, closer this time for he grabs his elbow, pulling the young man to a stop. “Eggsy, please…”

“No!” he shouts, spinning around and facing the older man. “You don’t get to tell me that you want to explain!”

The sudden explosion of anger stuns Harry—beautiful, intelligent, and maddening Harry Hart who stands there looking like Eggsy’s slapped him.

He sucks in a deep breath. “You fuck off without a word and _now_ I know why. Had someone else waitin’ for you just in case if things went south with us, yeah?” Eggsy snaps, pacing the sidewalk. “Or did you just want an excuse to get rid of me?”

“It was never like that,” Harry interjects, sounding awfully defeated. “I never wanted to get rid of you.”

“Oh? Because you’ve got a funny way of showin’ it, bruv.” He shakes a finger in his ex-boyfriend’s face. “You _left_ me with _nothing_!” Eggsy is surprised at the shrill tone his voice has taken on and idly wonders if someone will phone the coppers. “You didn’t even bother checkin’ up on me! You fucked off like an arsehole and went on with your life!”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I didn’t go on with my fucking life!” he yells. “I _wanted_ to call you, to reply to your texts, but I didn’t think you would speak to me. Not after you left without so much of an explanation.”

“Oh _fuck off_ , bruv! I left you a fuckin’ resignation letter all typed up and signed just for you and Chester!”

The older man’s features contort into a frown, tinged with rage. “Oh yes and _that_ makes it better!”

“You want to talk ‘bout manners now?” Eggsy questions, throwing his bag onto the ground. “Try returnin’ a phone call, you wanker! Or textin’ me. Somethin’ to let me know that you’re still alive! Or that you’re fuckin’ sorry!”

It’s strange to see Harry truly angry, as he was always so collected and calm. “You have no idea…” Harry swallows. “I didn’t want you to throw away your biggest opportunity over our fucking relationship.”

“You fucked over our relationship just to keep your fuckin’ job!” Eggsy counters, pushing him away.

His face melts away to sadness. “Yes, I did.” Harry swallows. “And your empty desk reminds me of that every time I look out onto the floor.”

“You fucked over our future and you think about it every time you look at my desk even though it’s your fault?” Eggsy squawks, glaring in disgust. “You fuckin’ freak! Make up your mind, bruv!”

“Now, Eggsy,” Harry begins to say.

The young man wipes at his cheeks, now wet with tears, and laughs harshly. “Oh that’s right, _you did_. With that chap you was suckin’ face with in front of you friends.”

Harry’s mouth flattens into a crude line. “Keep Alessandro out of this,” he warns.

“Oh, my apologies to _Alessandro_ ,” Eggsy says, deliberately repeating the man’s name with annoyance. He pauses to swallow. “You _never_ took me out to meet your friends. Or to have them ‘round for dinner.” More tears fall down his cheeks. “Did they even know about me?”

To his ex-boyfriend’s credit, he shakes his head. “No,” Harry admits, appearing so sad and small. “I never told them I was dating someone.”

A sob burns at his throat, threatening to escape into the cold evening air. “Were you ashamed of me?” Eggsy asks as his voice cracks. “Is that why…is that why you broke it off? Because you realized…”

He realizes that he can’t finish the sentence as Harry grabs him by both shoulders, stilling him. He notices that he’s trembling quite violently, as if he’s going to shake apart. “I was _never_ ashamed of you,” Harry tells him, craning his head to look the young man in the eye. “Not even for a moment.”

“I loved you so much, bruv,” Eggsy whispers. “I would have done anythin’ for you. Anythin’ you asked, I would have done it without question.” He begins to whimper pathetically. “Why didn’t you love me like I loved you? What did I do wrong?”

The tears come faster in time with the sobs escaping from his throat. Through his fuzzy vision, Eggsy makes out the stricken expression on Harry’s face and thinks to himself that it’s too genuine to be faked.

“Is everything alright?” questions a man, whose voice has a bit of an Italian accent to it.

Both he and Harry turn to find the tall chap Eggsy saw kissing his ex-boyfriend; he’s more attractive than he reckoned with his tanned skin, grey eyes, and dark hair. Alessandro tilts his head, taking in the scene before him and looks between his boyfriend and Eggsy.

“Harry?” he asks, taking a tentative step closer. He even pulls off a bit of scruff with ease.

That wanker.

“Could you give us a moment?” Harry pleads, snappishly.

Eggsy shakes himself out of the older man’s grasp just as Merlin appears, looking as worried as Alessandro. “I need to get goin’,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes before reaching for his bag lying by his feet. “Hope you have a nice evenin’.”

Spinning on his heel, he hails a passing cab and rushes over to the vehicle when it pulls to the curb. Eggsy doesn’t bother to look back at the company he just left as he slips inside of the cab. “The Black Prince pub,” he manages to choke out.

The driver looks at the state of his passenger through the rear view mirror and frowns. “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy assures, though he is certain that neither man believes him. “Just fine.”

 

* * *

 

The pub is overly hot, loud, and filled with people when he arrives.

Eggsy scans the main area for his friends, squinting in the semi-dim lighting. He is nudged out of the way by other patrons, finding himself near the men’s lavatory. Eggsy heads inside and splashes cool water on his face, reckoning that he should probably clean himself up before making an appearance.

It seeps into his skin, washing away any evidence of tear tracks or redness caused by crying. He wipes water from his eyes and avoids the grimy mirror in front of him as he reaches for a paper towel. “Gotta pull it together, guv,” Eggsy mutters to himself as he tosses the towel into the trash bin. “Time to man up.”

He goes back out into the throng and finds Percy at the bar. “Know where a mate can get a drink?” he asks with a smile.

“Eggsy!” his mate shouts over people’s voices and music. Throwing his arm around the younger man’s shoulder, Percy sways as he points Eggsy out to the bartender. “See this man? He’s my friend - best little shit there is. Put him on our tab, yeah?”

The amused bartender nods. “What will it be?”

“Martini. Gin, not vodka, obviously. Stirred for 10 seconds while glancin’ at an unopened bottle of vermouth,” Eggsy tells him. “Can you actually put it in one of ‘em beer mugs?”

“Going straight for the hard stuff already, Unwin?” Percy comments before taking a sip of his beer.

He is removing his jacket when he shrugs. “I want to celebrate your birth by gettin’ out on the piss,” Eggsy replies. “Care to join me, bruv?”

“I _knew_ I liked you,” Percy exclaims as the bartender hands Eggsy his drink. “Let’s get _fucked_ , Unwin!”

Eggsy follows the birthday boy to a table in the back that his group of friends has procured for their use. The flat surface is covered with drinks glasses, beer bottles, plates of food and a card here and there. Ryan, Jamal, and Rufus are animatedly chatting with a friend of Percy’s who may or may not be a barrister while James and Roxy are locked in a hug while swaying to the music blasting through the pub’s speakers.

Jamal is the first to spot Eggsy and Percy. “Oi, oi, mother fucker!” he shouts as he stands on his seat, raising his beer to salute them. “We can really get this party goin’ now since Unwin’s decided to show up!”

Percy’s friends cheer at Eggsy’s arrival while Roxy untangles herself from James, rushing over to him and throwing her arms around him. “I was getting worried about you,” she shouts. “Merlin said he’s been texting you for a bit and you never responded. Is everything alright?”

“Everythin’ is fine,” Eggsy tells her after he’s swallowed some of his drink. The gin burns his throat and settles warmly in his gut. “Got my drink, got my mates!”

Roxy peers at his drink. “Is that water?”

“A martini,” he replies, grinning mischievously. He waves his hand around the mug like one of those models on a gameshow. “You like its container?”

She grimaces at it and shakes her head. “You sure you’re okay?” Roxy asks again.

“Roxy, darlin’,” Eggsy says, slinging an arm around her and turning them towards the table. “Quit worryin’ ‘bout me. Drink, eat, and dance with me later on.” He leans in to whisper into her ear. “And perhaps sneak off with Rufus for a bit of makin’ out.”

Her hand playfully slaps him across the chest. “Watch it!” she laughs.

“Just use protection, yeah?” he continues on, chuckling. “We don’t know where he’s been.” Eggsy notices Roxy glaring at him, her lips twitching as she tries not to laugh. “What? I’m serious! Gotta check up on his pedigree before we let him go near you or summat.”

Roxy waves him away. “Keep drinking, Unwin!” she orders, to which he complies. “You owe me a spin on the dance floor.”

He finishes his martini in record time, ignoring the way his throat feels like it’s been lit on fire, and grabs Roxy as she’s chatting up Rufus. “Mind if I borrow her for a bit?” he asks over the beginning riff of a Beyoncé song, linking arms with her. “We single ladies need to dance together; it’s proper flatmate etiquette!”

“So long as you bring her back in one piece, mate,” Rufus laughs with a shooing motion of his hands.

Eggsy and Roxy rush off, dancing their way through the crowd until they find a comfortable spot to stay in. The floor is packed with bodies, everyone grinding up against each other when they aren’t colliding. Everyone’s drunk or well on their way to it, so no one ends up inciting a riot.

He and his flatmate dance through two songs before Ryan and Jamal bring two birds over to join them. At some point Roxy goes to grab them some shots and Rufus, as it turns out when he follows her—albeit begrudgingly.

More drinks are consumed and a pleasant, tingly feeling settles in Eggsy’s body. A red-headed bird, perhaps one of Percy or James’ mates, asks him if he wants to do car bombs at the bar and he goes with her, citing that he’s getting thirsty.

As Eggsy’s finished his second shot from that round, Roxy appears beside him with a worried look on her face and a glass of water. “Drink it,” she demands and adds as he’s downing it, “All of it.”

“Jesus,” he grouses, setting the glass on the bar top. “You get bossy when you’ve been drinkin’, Rox!”

She arches a brow. “And you _clearly_ want to end up in the A  & E!” Roxy rests both hands on his shoulders, giving Eggsy a gentle shake. “I’ll ask you one last time; is everything okay?”

“For fuck’s sake, _YES_!” Eggsy shouts over the music. He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m get lettin’ loose, alright? I swear on my life that I’m fine. Can I go dance now?”

Roxy doesn’t look too convinced, but then again, she’s quite intuitive where he’s concerned. Studying him hard, she nods and lets go of him. “Yes,” she tells him. “Just be careful. I don’t want to end the night with you getting your stomach pumped!”

He misses the last part of what she’s saying as Eggsy is already heading back out to join his mates. Electronic pop starts to come through the pub’s sound system, pulsing through his body as he makes his way back onto the dance floor.

 _You tell me you like to burn a bridge, that you always make mistakes like this_ , the singer’s tenor croons over the instrumentals. _Are you having fun? I tell you I've got my secrets too; I go hunting for someone like you. Are you having fun?_

Harry’s face comes to mind. That lovely smile and adorable dimple resting at the corner of his mouth, deepening as he looked at Eggsy.

He can still smell his cologne on his clothing, where Harry rested his hands during their confrontation on a London street corner. And his voice.

His _bloody_ voice.

It singes his eardrums, shouting over and over, drowning out the song’s chorus and the other patron’s voices as they sing along.

Eggsy sucks in a deep breath, remembering all the times Harry called him darling and said that he loved him while they lay in bed.

_And you're a dancer, well I'm a spy_ — _it's so beautiful to see you lie. Are you having fun?_

His head hurts and suddenly his throat is dry. Eggsy veers towards the table where Roxy is hugging her older brother and blocking his way to sitting. “Budge up, Rox,” he mumbles. “I’m feelin’ a bit rough.”

“Are you alright?” she asks, suddenly worried.

Eggsy pulls at the collar of his shirt. “No.” He looks around, squinting at the crap light of the pub for a glass of water. “Do we have any more water?”

James slides up next to him with a short tumbler in his hand. “Open your trap, Unwin,” he says, holding the glass filled with ice cubes and clear liquid to Eggsy’s mouth.

As it turns out, it’s _not_ water, but vodka. He makes a strangled sound after swallowing and feels the burn of his face turning bright red. “You arsehole!” he rasps, pounding on his sternum. He notices James laughing and gives him a shove that sends his mate onto the floor.

“Oh come now!” James shouts from the floor. He makes a feeble grab for Percy’s hand and complains the entire time his boyfriend pulls him to his feet. “You Nana’s boy! No sense of humor!”

Somehow it’s agreed upon to settle their disagreement on the dance floor thanks to Roxy’s intervention.

 

* * *

 

He finds himself sitting on the floor of a lavatory stall with his mobile in one hand.

Grunting softly, Eggsy goes to swallow away the cotton-mouth and cigarette taste. Shifting his back against the wall, his head begins to loll on his shoulders, balancing precariously between them before lopping over to one side. A sharp, sudden pain spikes in his temple, having made contact with the edge of a metal toilet paper dispenser. Eyes still closed Eggsy snort laughs.

His mobile beeps at him once, then twice, and again. He’s giggling now as he lifts his eyelids and takes in his new surroundings, a purple wall covered in decals and torn posters and a toilet, of course.

So how he got here is a bit fuzzy, but it’s expected—so he thinks.

The mobile chirps again. “Hold onto your knickers,” Eggsy curses at the device as he fingers fumble to punch in his code. It would be a lot easier if the numbers weren’t swimming, but he can’t be picky.

On his screen are five text message notifications, all from Merlin. Eggsy doesn’t even see the first word before his phone starts ringing with an incoming call. “Wassit?” he says by way of greeting, followed by a belch into the speaker.

“Fucking hell, Gary!” Merlin bellows, his voice lost in loud sounds. He does sound rather pissed off, as Merlin isn’t one to use Eggsy’s given name. “I’ve been trying to ring you back for ages, you arsehole! Where the fuck are you?”

Eggsy looks around, confused. “Uh…the toilets?” His mind clicks. “Where the fuck are _you_?”

“At the bloody Prince Black, trying to find _your_ drunken arse!” Merlin growls.

“You came lookin’ for me?”

The door to the lavatory opens and for a moment, the muffled sound of music becomes overbearingly loud before the lock clicks shut. Eggsy struggles to his feet using one hand while the other holds his mobile. After a few aborted tries and a giggle fit, he sways against the wall.

“Eggsy?” It’s Merlin and he’s standing right outside the stall.

Clumsily, he opens the door and practically falls into his mentor’s arms, laughing as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “My rescuer!” Eggsy exclaims, burying his head into Merlin’s chest. “You’ve come to rescue me from the dreaded toilet beast!”

Merlin groans as he takes the young man’s phone away, shoving it into the back pocket of his denim trousers. “You are rat-arsed,” he grumbles.

“Shh,” Eggsy mutters, holding up his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell my boss, yeah?” He snorts at the older man’s perplexed expression and ends up laughing again.

His body is shuffled around and he sees the door in front of him. “Come on,” Merlin says. “Let’s get your things and put your arse to bed.”

“No,” Eggsy counters, turning around and shoving Merlin into another bathroom stall. “Lemme buy you a drink, yeah? For comin’ to get me.” He pokes the very tip of his nose. “Because you’re a mate, you are! Just one drink.”

Merlin shakes his head. “You’ve had _enough_ , Eggsy,” he tells him, frowning.

“Not nearly!” the young man argues, all shrill like and slurred. He takes a step back, inspecting Merlin’s slightly rumpled appearance and starts leering. “Oh…I get it, bruv. You want to join me in bed, don’t you?” Eggsy moves into the older man’s sphere, grinning like a loon. “You want a taste, yeah?”

His expression is met with one of annoyance. “Absolutely not,” Merlin snarls, holding the young man away from him.

“Oh come on, _Hamish_ ,” Eggsy teases, his voice taking on a husky note. He draws his teeth over his bottom lip.

Merlin shakes his head, struggling to keep him away. “What are you doing?” he questions as Eggsy comes closer, literally inches from his face. “Stop it. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Liquid courage, old man,” the young man tells him, lifting his chin. He stares at the line of Merlin’s mouth, it’s fullness, it’s color. Eggsy moves closer, studying it until Merlin’s hand stops him. “You’re the only always sayin’ to try new things.”

A strained sigh passes through his mentor’s lips. “ _This_ is _not_ what I meant.”

“Come on,” Eggsy whispers against Merlin’s chin. He trails his nose to his mate’s neck. “Don’t you want me on my knees, bruv? Callin’ you daddy?”

Merlin makes a strange sound. “Bloody Christ,” he replies, clipped and heady.

Eggsy decides that his mentor is distracted enough to attempt to kiss him. As he moves in, his vision tunnels to black and the next thing he knows, Merlin is helping him into the back of a cab. “Wassit?”

Fuck, his throat is dry.

“That’s it,” Merlin soothes as they settle into the seat, resting Eggsy’s head on his lap. “Just lie down.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come?” Roxy asks, concerned.

His jacket is draped over his shoulders followed by the sensation of Merlin’s hand rubbing slow circles between his shoulders. “I got this one,” he assures.

The cab door shuts and Merlin gives the driver an address, though Eggsy isn’t paying attention. His eyes close and he readjusts his cheek on his mentor’s lap, slowly drifting off.

Eggsy doesn’t remember the drive to Merlin’s flat, as it turns out. His shoulder is given a gentle nudge, startling him awake. A large hand keeps him from falling off the backseat. “Thirsty,” he slurs as Merlin helps him sit up.

“I’ll get you a glass of water when we get inside,” the older man tells him as he passes money to the driver, thanking him for the ride. Without a word, he helps Eggsy out of the cab, steadying the young man as he stands on the sidewalk.

His vision is swimming, sharpening and then blurring under the street lamps outside Merlin’s flat. He realizes that his equilibrium is beyond fucked, like Eggsy is bobbing along in the ocean. Taking a step forward, he stumbles forward only to be caught by Merlin.

“Easy, easy,” the older man urges, securing his arm around Eggsy’s waist.

Groaning, the young man nods. “Thirsty,” he repeats, blinking deliberately. He swallows back the sick feeling that slowly crawls from his stomach to his mouth, the latter watering. “My stomach feels off.”

“That’s from drinking too much,” Merlin tells him, carefully walking towards the lobby door of his building. “I’ll spare you the lecture.”

Right as Merlin finishes his sentence; Eggsy lunges away from him and ends up vomiting on his own trainers. Hunched over, he gags and spits until his stomach settles. “Fuck me,” he complains, leans back into the older man. “That’s rank!”

It’s a bit of a shuffle as Merlin takes off Eggsy’s soiled trainers and keeps him upright. Truthfully, it involves dexterity and patience as the young man is absolutely useless in his drunken state. He mumbles apologies into Merlin’s chest and ends up dozing off for several minutes before his mentor rouses him.

Walking into the flat, Harry begins to plague Eggsy’s thoughts. His memory follows the young man across town and into the darken living room of Merlin’s home, haunting him even when Eggsy is too drunk to walk without assistance.

His mind still functions, working in overdrive as he catalogs each moment he spent with Harry. Every caress, murmured endearment, and conversation leads to the same heartbreaking conclusion.

“Why didn’t he love me?” he whispers aloud as Merlin leads him to the bathroom. It’s too low for the other man to hear, though for Eggsy it squeezes at him like a vice.

Merlin helps him out of his jacket, dumping it on the floor. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” he suggests, maneuvering the young man through the dark hallway.

A light turns on, revealing Merlin’s pristine bathroom. It resembles Harry’s in color scheme only, but it’s enough to bring tears to Eggsy’s eyes. “Why didn’t he love me?” he asks again, louder and choking on a sob. He sounds like he’s pleading for an answer that will never come. “Merlin, why didn’t Harry love me?”

The sob lodges itself uncomfortably in his throat, causing a surge of nausea that sends Eggsy rushing to the toilet. Scrambling to lift the seat cover, he becomes violently ill as the rest of the alcohol he consumed (and perhaps some chips) expel themselves.

Eggsy’s less than sober state releases all his pent-up sadness of losing Harry, though the man is not lost, but no longer his. It makes him inconsolable when he’s not puking up the contents of his stomach until he can barely breathe and his throat burns.

Merlin situates himself right behind Eggsy, alternately running his fingers through Eggsy’s sweat-laden hair or pressing a damp washcloth against his neck. He rubs his back when the young man makes another deposit into the toilet bowl and soothes his whimpering with comforting words whispered into Eggsy’s ear.

Not that any of it matters.

Even when he ends up with his head in Merlin’s lap as tears and snot stain the other man’s trousers, Eggsy realizes that he’s anything but fine.

Quite far from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Taron Egerton's appearance in "The Breach" music video as inspiration for the pub scenes, as well as borrowing dialogue from _Kingsman_ and _A Single Man_.
> 
> Alessandro resembles the lovely, [Raoul Bova](http://www.daringtodo.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/raul-bova-aids.jpg).


	8. Chapter 8

Drinking himself into a drunken stupor isn’t typical behavior for Eggsy.

Merlin realizes this as he keeps a constant vigil over the young man late into the night. He frets over Eggsy’s predisposition to clamming up when in distress—emotional or mental—and what factors it has played in the current circumstances.

He had felt utterly helpless as he witnessed the young man systematically shutting down in the wake of being dumped, but now it has turned into something else entirely. He akins Eggsy’s alcohol infused breakdown to a detonation; it happens suddenly, leaving charred remnants and wisps of smoke.

Merlin refuses to lecture him. The memory of sitting on the bathroom floor while Eggsy’s sobs echoed off the walls and later when he’s put to bed is still too fresh in his mind. He’s seen him cry tears of frustration as he vents angrily or the even rarer moments of anxiety that are quieted a short time later.

This had been far different.

Eggsy is inconsolable, plain and simple. Even as Merlin lies next to him in bed, keeping two fingers pressed into the delicate skin of the young man’s wrist, the ragged breathing and sleepy whimpers can still be heard.

He had spent hours on his bathroom floor with Eggsy held against him, feeling the deep body-thrashing sobs and moans paired when the young man wasn’t gulping for breath.

Merlin is quite certain that the fabric of his trousers is stained with tears and mucus. He shucked them off while helping Eggsy into the shower to wash away the disgusting pub floor and vomit smell from his person. He’ll deal with them, along with the rest of their clothes, in the morning.

For now he just listens to the young man’s movements in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

He spends most of the following day resting.

It suits Eggsy just fine since he feels like utter crap. His head is making a valiant attempt to murder him with the stabbing pain it radiates and his stomach is cramping something wicked.

And his eyelids feel swollen.

Merlin coaxes him into drinking a Gatorade and nibbling on a biscuit before supplying the young man with a paracetamol. A cool, damp cloth is folded onto Eggsy’s forehead and a hot water bottle is pressed into his stomach.

There are moments of semi-consciousness where he hears Merlin on the phone; one instance is laced with anger-filled profanity, whereas the other has a note of concern. Eggsy has no idea who happens to be on the receiving end of the former, but he feels sorry for them.

 _Really_ sorry for them; by the sounds of it, someone ought to start planning their funeral.

His mentor isn’t mincing words and he’s starting to pace, judging by the heavy footfalls coming from another room—all of which isn’t a good sign. Whoever he’s speaking to…well, it’s safe to assume that his mentor is furious with them.

The other caller is Roxy. Eggsy hears Merlin saying her name, sounding exasperated as he assures her that her flatmate is still alive.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he replies to a series of unheard questions. “He’s left some of his things in the guest room. Well, when you’ve been friends with him as long as I have…right.” There’s a sad chuckle and the door creaking open. “Not at the moment,” Merlin whispers. “Eggsy’s still sleeping. Rox…I promise you that he still has a pulse. Of _course_ , I’ve checked!”

Good old Roxy, she’s giving his mentor a run for his money, though Eggsy knows it’s because of him.

Guilt gnaws at him just as Merlin’s fingers move his hair off his forehead with a gentle stroke. He readjusts his head on the pillow, grunting as he fidgets under the comforter.

“I’ll speak to you later,” his mentor says before hanging up and setting the mobile down on the bedside table. He is leaning over Eggsy with his brows knit into a frown. “Do you think you could drink a bit more?”

The young man sniffs in reply and is given a mug of plain tea to sip on once he’s reclined against the headboard with two pillows. He squints at his surroundings and is surprised to find himself in Merlin’s bedroom rather than the guest room down the hall. He can tell by the plaid throw blanket at the foot of the bed, the colors similar to the ones on Scottish man’s family tartan.

“What am I doin’ in here?” Eggsy mumbles, palming his face.

Merlin takes the mug and sets it aside. “Your arse is too heavy for me to carry into the second bedroom,” he says, pressing his palm against the young man’s forehead, then cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shite,” Eggsy slurs, taking the pillows with him as he sinks back down to the mattress. He huffs a content sigh and shuts his eyes.

“Would you believe that you look it, too?” his mentor counters, sounding quite amused with himself.

Eggsy frowns, but doesn’t bother looking at Merlin. “Well, you’re _ol’_ ,” he hisses as he drifts off. He reckons that his host has quite a few words to rebut this, but he’s already asleep when it comes.

He wakes some time later, finding himself in a darkened room with his legs tangled between bed sheets and the comforter. Eggsy is careful as he gets out of bed, using tentative movements in case the dull ache in his head decides to go full throttle.

It seems that his body has decided to stop punishing him, which is just as well because he hears _Top Gear_ coming from the telly. Eggsy putters around, using the toilet followed by the sink to wash his hands before grabbing the tartan throw blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders as he ambles to the living room.

The smooth top of Merlin’s head, bits of dark stubble dusting his scalp, pokes up along with his arm from behind the couch as he is enraptured by the latest episode. Benedict Cumberbatch is cursing a blue streak in his deep baritone.

“I don’t get why people find him attractive,” Eggsy comments, startling his friend. “Looks like an alien fucked an otter if you ask me.”

Laughter comes barking out of Merlin as he watches the young man’s path to the couch. Moving his long limbs, he sits up. “At least he isn’t that chap from _Doctor Who_.”

“You mean the bloke with the Easter Island head?” Eggsy pulls a face. “And no eyebrows for that matter. He’s rather unfortunate-lookin’. At least ol’ Benny has his voice.”

Merlin is staring at him from behind his glasses. “For someone who was nearly comatose for most of the day, you are quite opinionated this evening,” he teases. He ignores the young man’s grumbling and gestures to a plate with leftover crumbs. “I ordered some Chinese; would you like some?”

His stomach growls at the prospect of food. “Maybe a little bit,” Eggsy concedes, rubbing at his belly. Tilting his head, he takes in his appearance. “Why am I wearin’ one of your shirts?”

“Because my dresser was closer,” Merlin replies as he gets up and heads towards the kitchen. He motions for Eggsy to remain where he is. “I’ll be just a mo. You can change the channel if you’d like.”

Furrowing his brows, he crosses his arms over his chest and props his feet upon the coffee table as the show continues on. He barely remembers coming to Merlin’s flat, let alone anything that happened after he and his former flatmates did more shots.

“Did Roxy phone you to come pick me up?” Eggsy calls as Merlin shuffles around in the kitchen.

A plate is set down on the counter by the sound of it. “No. Actually, _you_ texted me sometime around half ten with a bunch of emojis,” he replies. “I still haven’t sorted out what it all meant. Probably a bunch of nonsense seeing how pissed you were when I showed up.”

“Sod off!”

Merlin’s laughter travels into the living room. “You were so drunk that you _fell asleep_ in the men’s lavatory,” he continues, appearing in the doorway with a tray of food. “That’s where I found you, by the way. Arseholed with a shit eating grin and going on about a toilet monster.”

Eggsy shrieks in dismay. “I _did not_ say that!”

“Oh, it was toilet _beast_ ,” Merlin corrects, setting the tray down in front of the young man. He snickers, which only ends up annoying Eggsy even more.

Shaking his head, the young man glares at him. “All soddin’ lies,” he grumbles. “You’re just makin’ shite up!”

“I wish I was,” the older man sighs. He goes to sit back down at the other end of the couch. “You also got a bit handsy.”

Eggsy is picking up a fork when the confession comes out. Raising a brow, he turns to Merlin. “Handsy?” he asks, dubiously. He rolls his eyes. “You sure you weren’t a bit drunk yourself, bruv?”

“I should have taken you up on your offer for a drink,” Merlin grouses, turning his attention to the telly.

They sit in a companionable silence while Eggsy has a bit of chicken salad with hot and sour soup. He is careful to wait out the few bites, wanting to see how his stomach will react before deciding he’s in the clear. As Eggsy has a mouthful of soup, he hears Merlin speak.

“You also hit on me.”

A graceful arch of soup spurts from Eggsy’s nostrils and onto the couch cushions. Merlin is quick to snatch the tray from his lap while the young man wheezes and coughs. Throat and eyes burning, Eggsy shoots his mentor a deathly glare while tears stream down his cheeks. “Couldn’t you have waited until I was done eatin’?” he manages to choke out.

Handing him a napkin, Merlin shrugs. “Probably should have done, seeing how you reacted.”

“Do you _know_ how painful it is to have hot and sour soup go up your nose?” the young man complains, wiping his face. “Not even _up_ , but _out_!” He whines unintelligibly. “Bloody hell!”

Merlin says something about getting him more tissues and rushes off to the kitchen, tray in hand. It’s just as well because Eggsy will never want to consume Chinese food again. When he comes back, the older man has a washcloth and more napkins.

“Should I dial nine-nine-nine?” Merlin teases while Eggsy slumps down on the couch with the damp cloth laid out on his face. “Or perhaps Roxy?”

The young man gives him the finger. “You secretly want to off me, you rotten twat!” He huffs and pulls the fabric down to reveal one very red, watery eye. “Did I really hit on you?”

“Ah yes,” Merlin confirms, taking off his glasses to wipe the lenses on his t-shirt. “I believe you mentioned something about being on your knees and calling me daddy.”

Eggsy groans and hides his face again. “Fuck _me_ ,” he laminates.

“Yes, that is what you wanted,” his mentor says, earning another groan from the young man. He squats in front of the couch, tugging on Eggsy’s arm. “Look at me.”

“No! I’m never lookin’ at you again!”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “ _Eggsy_ ,” he sighs, tugging a bit harder. “Come on. You were so tossed that you fell asleep in the toilets.”

“You’re not makin’ this better, bruv.”

“My point is that you were wasted and had no idea what you were doing,” Merlin reasons, pushing his point as gently as possible. “I’m not mad at you. Everything is fine between us, okay?”

Eggsy peeks out from the cloth, his expression timid. “ _Really_?”

“Really,” the older man assures, patting him on the knee. “We’re right as rain. I promise.” The young man remains skeptical, which Merlin seems to notice. “Come on; I’ll cook you up beans on toast.”

He finally nods. “ _Fine_ ,” he grumbles, allowing Merlin to pull him to his feet. “Only because you said you would cook.”

“Oh! Only because I would cook,” his mentor snorts as they make their way to the kitchen. “Never mind that we’re mates.” Eggsy chuckles as he follows and earns a scowl from Merlin. “I am slightly disappointed. I thought if you were going to hit on me that you’d at least do a better job of it.”

An offended shriek comes out of the young man’s mouth. “Critical you are!” he snaps, frowning. “See if I ever flirt with you again, bruv!”

 

* * *

 

Eggsy has a feeling that Merlin phoned Roxy and asked her to go easy on him when he trudges through the door on Monday afternoon.

She’s at the office, of course, while he sleeps off the rest of his headache in the comfort of his own bed. Eggsy wakes when the front door shuts and rolls over to his back just as Roxy’s footfalls near his room. She calls his name, sounding tentative.

“In here,” he tells her as he sits up and kicks the blankets off his lower body. He gets out of bed, stretching when Roxy appears in the doorway.

Her face shows relief and a bit of annoyance with her flatmate. “You look a bit better than Merlin described,” she comments with her arms crossed over her chest, index fingering tapping her bicep.

“And how was that?” Eggsy asks as he rolls his shoulders. He sits down on his bed, patting the mattress for Roxy to join him.

She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear before smoothing the comforter and taking a seat. “Like shite,” is her reply. Roxy purses her lips together. “I know that you’ve been having a rough time since…since Harry chucked you and you don’t like to talk about it.” She laces their fingers together, giving him a comforting squeeze. “But when you decide you want to, I’m here. You can just say you’re having a bad day and that will be that.”

“Is that signal for you to get us pizza and ice cream for when we sit in front of telly, watchin’ Rom Coms?” Eggsy asks in a mock whisper.

Roxy flicks his dimple. “That’s _precisely_ what is it,” she declares over the sound of his resulting yelp.

“You hit me!” Eggsy exclaims, rubbing his cheek.

She shrugs. “ _Flicked_ you,” she corrects, distracted by a double picture frame on Eggsy’s bedside table. Reaching over him, Roxy plucks it from its resting place. After several moments of studying the two photographs, Roxy turns to him and says, “These are your parents, aren’t they?”

“And my foster parents,” Eggsy tells her, pointing to the second photograph of a younger version of himself with a studious-looking gentleman in tweed and a woman resembling a softer Grace Jones.

Roxy’s gaze towards his finger, before turning back to his parents. The photo had been taken shortly after his third birthday, in Bristol if he’s remembering correctly. “You look exactly like your dad,” she comments, smiling. “With your mum’s eyes…and look at you!” She coos over his toddler self. “So tiny and chubby-cheeked. How precious you were!”

“ _Were_?” he gasps, grinning when Roxy meets his eyes.

She nudges him in the side, turning her attention to the other couple. “Tell me about them,” she implores.

“That’s Professors James and Beverly Arnold,” Eggsy replies. “Jim had tenure at Imperial College and taught courses in climate change and Bev was a cultural anthropologist.” He takes the frame from Roxy, staring down at their smiling faces. Eggsy had taken the picture on their twentieth wedding anniversary. “Jim was the copper who fished me out of my parents’ car; he took his Ph.D. courses during the day and worked nights. He even went to the hospital and sat with me all night while someone phoned my grandparents.”

He recalls the professor’s face, shadowed by flashing red and blue lights as he poked his head into the broken back window and smiled at him. Jim Arnold helped Eggsy out of the car, wrapping him up in his coat and assured him that everything would turn out alright.

“I didn’t know you were with them,” Roxy murmurs, linking their arms and resting her head on his shoulder.

Eggsy leans against her, placing his cheek on the top of skull. “I don’t like talkin’ about it,” he admits. “My family didn’t want me, but Jim would come visit wherever social services placed me. He started bringin’ Bev with ‘im, too. I liked ‘em a lot; they were nice and didn’t mind that I didn’t talk much.”

“Sounds familiar,” she teases.

“Ol’ habits die hard, Rox,” Eggsy tells her. He sighs, looking down at two pairs of faces. “They fostered me just after I turned seven. The most amazin’ folk you’d ever meet and funny, too. Came to every science fair, recital. They even visited my parents’ graves with me.” Swallowing, he puts the frame back. “I didn’t get ‘em for very long, but at least I had ‘em, yeah?”

Roxy hugs herself to him, burying her face into his shoulder blade. “You have us, too,” she whispers. “Jamal, Ryan, Merlin, me. Even my ridiculous older brother and James.”

“The best family a lad could ask for,” Eggsy says, leaning into her embrace. He grins when she kisses his cheek and turns to do the same to her temple when his stomach growls at the two of them. “Perhaps I should cook us up some dinner.”

“There’s some Chinese takeaway in the refrigerator,” Roxy offers as they get up and wander into the kitchen.

He pulls a face. “Not in the mood for that,” Eggsy tells her a bit too quickly while opening the refrigerator to see what he can whip up.

“Oh?” his flatmate questions, leaning against the counter. “And why is that, pray tell?”

Eggsy groans, pressing his forehead into the freezer door. “You promise not to laugh?”

“No,” Roxy answers.

“You’re a terrible mate, you know that?” he complains as he shuts the refrigerator. Eggsy notices how it doesn’t seem to faze her and palms his face. “I was eatin’ some hot and sour soup when Merlin told me that I tried to come onto him in the toilets.”

Roxy’s jaw goes slack in time with her eyes widening. “You what?” she gasps. “You hit on _Merlin_?”

“Yeah, I know!” Eggsy cries, spinning around and dropping his forehead against the appliance. “I got completely shitfaced and told one of my best mates that I would get on my knees and call him daddy. Fuck my fuckin’ life! Do you know how embarrassin’ that is, yeah? I’ll barely be able to look at ‘im again!”

A cool hand squeezes the nape of his neck. “It seems like he’s taking it well,” Roxy says, trying to be supportive and only earns a glare. She holds up her hands. “He didn’t chuck you out of his flat and you two are obviously still friends, so it’s not that bad.”

“But it’s _Merlin_ ,” he counters, as if this explains everything.

Roxy shrugs. “Well, why _haven’t_ you two dated?” she asks, now incredibly curious about his relationship with their colleague and friend.

“Because it’s _Merlin_!” Eggsy shrieks, offended. “He’s my mentor and mate!”

She arches a brow. “So? Loads of people were friends with their partners before they started dating. And hasn’t he dated both men and women?”

“So?” he echoes. “So! It’s _Merlin_! I can’t decide that I want to bang ‘im all of the sudden!”

Roxy huffs a sigh. “Men,” she grouses, walking over to him and placing both hands on Eggsy’s shoulders, shaking her head. “Evidently your drunk self has decided that he wanted to bang him. And why not? Merlin is a handsome looking man.”

“I never said he wasn’t,” Eggsy counters, frowning at her. “It’s just that…”

“Is that what?”

He deflates under Roxy’s stare. “I just never really thought about ‘im like that, you know?” Eggsy admits, sounding guilty. “I mean, don’t get me wrong - Merlin is fit - but when I first met ‘im I was _barely_ nineteen and he wasn’t interested in a kid!”

“I hate to tell you, love, but you’re no longer a kid,” Roxy tells him, quite sympathetically as she nudges his dimple with a finger.

Eggsy darts away, still frowning all the while. “I _know_ that!”

“Perhaps your drunk self does as well,” she comments with a shrug. “Anyways, now that’s settled, what are you going to make me for dinner, Mr. Unwin?”

 

* * *

 

Here’s the thing about Merlin: he _is_ a fit bloke.

Eggsy can admit that much because he’s not blind. He has two functioning eyes, yeah?

It’s just…it’s _Merlin_. His mentor, his mate, his colleague, and bearer of wisdom. He has known Eggsy for nearly seven years, watching him grow from a gawky, mouthy teenager to a young man who is still rather mouthy, if anyone is being honest.

Falling from mentorship to a friendship had been easy for them; Merlin was just as crass and snarky as the young man, so they appreciated each other’s humor. Similar interests aside, Eggsy always felt comfortable around his mentor, who never judged him for his tragic background and tolerated Jamal and Ryan’s antics.

Simply, he never looked at Merlin in _that_ way.

Which is no excuse as to why he’s staring at him from across the office while the older man is reviewing schematics with James.

“You’re gawking at him,” Roxy whispers, unable to find her amusement.

Shooting her a glare, Eggsy turns back to him and continues to steal glances. Merlin appears the same as he always has—wearing a jumper with trousers, though it whether or not he has a buttoned down shirt on varies. His glasses hang from his collar and he’s gesturing with his hands as he bounces ideas with their colleague.

There’s nothing different about Merlin. He’s still the same bloke who is an Arsenal fanatic and has to take his coffee first thing in the mornings—black, _always_ black. There is the good-natured ribbing and cursing a blue streak.

Yet it’s not the same as it once was.

“You’re _still_ gawking,” Roxy says ten minutes later. She’s not even looking up from her computer as she works diligently in SketchUp.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “So what if I am?” he retorts.

“I thought you didn’t think of him that way,” she counters with a cheeky grin.

“Still don’t,” he says quickly. He turns his head when Merlin laughs, the sound booming and causing Eggsy’s stomach to flip. “I was just thinkin’ that maybe I should cook you both some dinner…for takin’ care of me.”

Roxy gives him a strange look and sets down her mouse. “Cook us both dinner?” she questions. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy replies as he leans back in his seat and stretches his arms over his head. “It’s a nice, simple gesture of my appreciation.”

She scoffs. “I only helped load your arse into a taxi,” Roxy says while standing up with her teacup in hand. “Merlin was the one actually dealt with you.”

“I’m cooking you _both_ dinner,” Eggsy tells her quickly.

Roxy shakes her head. “You ought to have him over and see if there’s something between you two.” Then Eggsy frowns at her. “It could be like all the other times Merlin’s popped on by and arsed around the flat. Or…”

“Or what?” he asks dubiously. He notices that glint in her eye, the one where Roxy’s thinking of things that she shouldn’t be.

She wags her brows at him. “Or you pop other things, if you get my drift.”

“You are crude!” Eggsy declares as he gets up and starts walking to Merlin as Roxy laughs. “Crude and vulgar and a bloody pervert!” He notices that now he has both his mentor and James’ attention. Giving them a jaunty wave, Eggsy leans over the schematics. “Oi, you want to pop over for dinner on Saturday night? I wanted to make you and Roxy a thank you meal.”

Merlin picks up his phone and starts looking through his calendar before nodding. “I can do that,” he says.

“What about me?” James cries.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “ _You?_ The one who poured vodka down my throat,” he counters, giving his colleague a shove. “You get nothin’!”

“Don’t worry, James,” Merlin assures, patting his shoulder. “Eggsy always end up making too much food. I’m sure there’ll be leftovers.”

 

* * *

 

Saturday comes, as it's wont to do.

He’s stirring a mixture of zucchini, onion, garlic, tomatoes, basil, salt, and pepper in a saucepan when Roxy decides to tell him that she conveniently forgot about her plans with Percy. “Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” Eggsy complains. He sets the wooden spoon down on a paper towel. “You suddenly have plans with your brother? You’re a _liar_!”

“I forgot,” Roxy says, not sounding too apologetic. “Besides, don’t you want to hang out with your friend?”

“In case if you’ve forgotten, _you’re_ my _mate_ , too!” he hisses as the timer goes off to indicate that the oven is ready. Cursing under his breath, Eggsy takes the saucepan off the stove and goes to pour it over four Halibut steaks that sit in waiting.

Roxy hops up onto the counter across from him and shrugs. “I know that, but it’s a family thing.”

“Right,” Eggsy grouses as he spoons out equal helpings of sauce upon the fish. “Is James goin’ to be there?”

She makes a noncommittal sound.

“And _Rufus_ , possibly?”

Roxy snorts at this. “Now you’re just paranoid,” she tells him. “Besides, you can feel out the situation with Merlin much better without me being the third wheel.”

“Situation with Merlin,” he mumbles, nostrils flared as he reaches for the feta cheese. He crumbles it over the halibut before shoving the whole baking dish into the oven. “There is _no_ situation with Merlin!” Eggsy cries after setting the timer.

“Don’t act like I haven’t seen you looking at him,” Roxy points out as her flatmate removes his apron. She watches Eggsy straighten out his clothing. “And you’re wearing the jumper he got you.”

He looks down, spying the cobalt blue cashmere stretched over his torso. “So?”

“ _And_ you look like you’re about to shit yourself,” she adds, jumping down. Roxy pecks his cheek as she whizzes past him. “Just remember to breathe and not to drink too much wine.”

Eggsy groans, following his flatmate out to the living room where her belongings are draped over one of the armchairs. “Roxy,” he begs. “Please stay! For the love of Queen and country, stay!”

“You’ll be fine,” she assures, pulling on her coat. As she fixes her hair, Roxy grabs her purse. “It’s just Merlin.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, the buzzer for downstairs goes off signaling his mentor’s arrival. Eggsy looks at her with puppy-dog eyes and silently pleads for Roxy to stay. She goes to the communication system and buzzes him inside, smiling.

“He’s one of your oldest friends, right?” Roxy questions as she gives Eggsy a once over. She goes to straighten his jumper and ruffles his hair. “It’s just the two of you having a nice, homemade dinner.”

“After I’ve hit on ‘im and called him _daddy_ ,” he mumbles.

She giggles. “Perhaps you can come up with a better name,” Roxy tells him as she leads him towards the door and opens it to find Merlin on the other side. “Hi Merlin, bye Merlin. Must dash, family events and all!” she greets while rushing to the elevator. “Have fun!”

“Family event?” his mentor questions, watching her go. He turns to Eggsy, looking perplexed. “Usually I wouldn’t be so keen to run off to one of those.”

Eggsy steps aside to let him in. “But your family is loud and _Scottish_. Very Scottish; can’t understand ‘em once they get goin’.”

“What can I say?” Merlin replies, handing a paper bag to the young man. He removes his coat and tosses it onto an armchair. He’s wearing a long sleeved v-neck shirt in a dark grey color and a pair of denims, the usual uniform if Merlin isn’t wearing a jumper, and looking very dashing.

Eggsy blinks. _No,_ he corrects himself. _No, not dashin’. This isn’t a fuckin’ Jane Austen novel! Just Merlin, you dumb fuck! Fuckin’ Roxy!_

“I bought a white when you mentioned fish,” the older man tells him. A cheeky grin appears. “Unless if you’ve decided to stick to water from now on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha,” Eggsy grumbles as they go into the kitchen. “Funny you are.” Opening a drawer, he pulls out the wine opener and sets it aside while he gets to work on the bottle’s wrappings. “Just you wait; you’ll be the one with the nasty hangover and everyone will be makin’ fun of you.”

“I know when to stop,” the older man chuckles. He opens the open door to peek at their dinner and makes a sound of approval. “What did you conjure up?”

Eggsy is winding the corkscrew into the wine bottle. “Baked halibut with an Italian sauce and feta crumbles.” He works the cork and lets out victorious noise before grabbing two glasses. “And a mixed green salad.”

“How fancy you’ve become with Roxy as your flatmate,” Merlin teases as he watches Eggsy pour wine into one glass and hold it out to him.

The young man scoffs. “I’ve cooked at your place loads of times,” he says while supplying himself with a glass of his own.

“True, but never fish.”

Eggsy looks up, alarmed. “Have you suddenly decided you don’t like halibut?” He watches as Merlin starts chuckling, causing laugh lines to appear at the corners of his eyes and mouth, having never really paid attention to them before.

They light up Merlin’s face, making him appear less grumpy than usual. “Calm down,” he assures, patting Eggsy on the shoulder. “The fish looks fantastic. Now drink your wine.”

“Drink my wine, he says,” Eggsy mutters into his glass, doing as the older man has said. “Tryin’ to get me drunk again and take advantage of me.”

Merlin snorts into his wine. “Oh yes,” he says. “That’s _exactly_ what I want to do; tame the toilet beast and have my naughty way with you.”

Eggsy turns a shade of red previously unknown to the color spectrum, but is, luckily, saved by the ding of the timer. Handing his glass off to Merlin, he grabs an oven mitt and gets back to cooking.

They talk about things that have nothing to do with work, including Arsenal’s current standings and how much Merlin loathes Chelsea, while Eggsy finishes arranging their meal on two dishes. The salad bowl sits on the table in the kitchen along with water-filled glasses and a basket of bread.

“Roxy has no idea what she’s missin’,” the young man declares once everything is ready to be consumed. He rubs his hands together, grinning like a loon when he turns to Merlin. “Come on, dig in, bruv! I didn’t slave away in the kitchen just for you to look at it!”

A characteristic scowl appears on the older man’s face. “How long did this take to cook?” he questions while cutting his halibut into neat little squares.

“An hour,” Eggsy fires back with a mouthful of bread. “Now shut your gob and enjoy the fruits of my labor, yeah?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Fruits of your labor,” he mutters, forking a piece of fish and shoving it into his mouth. He chews for a moment and then moans in pleasure. “Holy shite, this is bloody fantastic!”

“With all your bitchin’ and _now_ you like it,” the young man laughs. He waves his fork at Merlin. “You look like you just nutted.”

“Might have done,” Merlin admits as he continues eating. “You’ve outdone yourself, Eggsy. If architecture doesn’t work out for you, there is always the culinary arts.”

A bottle and a half later, Eggsy finds himself arguing with Merlin as his mentor assists him in cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grouses as he nudges the older man out of the way with an elbow. “Guests are _supposed to_ sit on their arses and relax while the host puts the dishes away!”

Merlin scoffs at this and hip checks him. “According to whom, might I inquire?”

“ _Everyone_ ,” the young man answers. He begins to remove bits of food from the plates they used with a damp sponge and placing them on counter. Noticing that Merlin is going to put them into the dishwasher, he lets out an sound of protest. “Oi! Stop it!”

Merlin shakes his head. “You stop it, lad,” he fires back as he arranges the dishes on the rack. “If I left this up to you, we’d be here all night.”

“Lies! Scandalous _and_ outrageous lies!” Eggsy shouts. He flicks droplets of soapy water at him, watching them catch on Merlin’s sweater and cheek.

“Oi!” his mentor complains, rubbing his face against his bicep. “Watch it!”

Eggsy laughs. “Why? It’s not like you have any hair to mess up.” He watches Merlin’s expression change from annoyed to devious and swallows. “Shit, you’re about to do somethin’?”

He doesn’t wait for Merlin to nod, opting to run out of the kitchen with wet hands and his mentor on his heels. His mentor is fast as fuck with his long legs and experience as a long distance runner at university, so Eggsy doesn’t stand a chance when he’s tackled onto the sofa.

The furniture’s legs screech against the floor as two fully grown men move it an inch from its usual resting spot. Neither one of them seem particularly concerned about whether or not the hardwood floor is scratched since Merlin is battling Eggsy’s flailing limbs as he resorts to tickling.

Eggsy _hates_ being tickled and he knows that Merlin —the arsehole—is _well aware_ of this. “That’s low down, you berk!” the young man bellows as he tries to wiggle away, except Merlin has him pinned against the cushions. “Playin’ dirty like Chelsea, you are! Get off me!”

Merlin grabs one of Eggsy’s wrists and shoves it to his chest. “I should give you a wedgie for comparing me to Chelsea, you little shit!”

“Don’t act like touchin’ my arse is a chore,” Eggsy quips, winking up at the older man. His comment is met with a palm being shoved into his face. “Hey!”

Their battle quickly becomes an ill-advised wrestling match. Merlin seems to be attempting to pin both of the architect’s wrists to the couch while Eggsy is wily and manages to get out of it at the last second.

Catching his mentor off guard, he pulls Merlin’s chest to his and finds their mouths inches from each other’s. Perhaps it’s the wine they’ve consumed, but his stomach does a little flip when he looks up into a pair of hazel eyes.

It’s not like he hasn’t noticed before—which he hasn’t because Merlin is his friend and mentor, not some bloke he wants to snog and take home. On the other hand, Eggsy makes a study of the moss green irises encompassed with a ring of near black and flecked with bits of brown.

Or gold.

The lighting is a bit off since Merlin is literally on top of him. Not that he’s complaining because the weight of the older man feels… _comfortable_. Nice, even.

“Hi,” Eggsy croaks, grinning.

Merlin chuckles at him. “Hello. I seem to be lying on you.”

“Not the worst thing in the world,” the young man says. “Like a blanket or summat.”

One of his mentor’s brows rise in confusion. “You’re comparing me to a piece of fabric?” Merlin questions as he tilts his head.

“Not exactly,” Eggsy replies as the tip of Merlin’s nose brushes against his own. He clears his throat. “Dunno what I’m tryin’ to say.”

The older man nods. “Neither do I,” he whispers, bringing his lips closer to Eggsy’s.

He can feel the softness of them barely brushing against his own while his mind thinks _God yes, please do it!_ because despite Eggsy’s naysaying, he realizes that he does find Merlin attractive.

And wants to do a manner of things that are entirely inappropriate on Roxy’s couch.

That is until Roxy, James, Percy, and fucking Rufus charge through the front door and startle them enough that Merlin falls off the couch and onto the floor.

“Oh,” the former says, looking quite alarmed with three men crowded behind her, Roxy’s cheeks bright pink. “Did we interrupt?”

Eggsy bolts up, scowling at her. “You think?” he snaps, lending a hand to Merlin and pulling him up. “Don’t you people knock? Where are your manners?”

“For the record,” Rufus interjects, holding a paper bag that undoubtedly contains alcohol. “I was forced into coming with them.”

There is a flurry of hisses and shushing followed by James swiftly knocking the poor bloke upside the head. “Keep your trap shut, mate!”

“That _hurt_!”

Merlin lets out a groan of annoyance as he stands up and straightens himself out. “Well, as it is, I have an early morning tomorrow,” he tells the group, looking apologetically at Eggsy. “Babysitting my niece while her parents go to a friend’s engagement brunch.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Roxy says a bit too quickly. “Why don’t you stay for a nightcap?”

Eggsy and Merlin look at her like she’s grown two heads as the former hands Merlin his jacket. “Nightcap?” he mutters. “Is this _Sex and the City_ now?”

“Apparently so,” the latter replies as he pulls on the article of clothing and does up the buttons. Ignoring everyone else, he turns to Eggsy with a grin and raised eyebrows. “Are you going to be alright handling this lot?”

The statement is meant with several indiscernible sounds of disagreement to which the young man shrugs as he walks Merlin to the opened door. “Suppose so,” Eggsy tells him. “Unless that’s an invitation to leave with you.”

“Ah, no, unfortunately,” Merlin sighs, leaning in and brushes his lips against Eggsy’s cheek. “Another time then.”

A bit dumbfounded, Eggsy nods and somehow manages to bid his mentor a good evening before shutting the door. When he turns around, four nosy berks are staring at him.

“Mind your soddin’ own business!” Eggsy barks at them before deciding to busy himself in the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is out of control: 101 pages, 52k words...crap.

The difference with having a flirtation—because despite what Roxy believes, that’s _exactly_ what this is —with Merlin is that neither one of them pretend nothing happened.

There’s no dancing around their growing attraction nor awkward interactions over a morning cup of coffee. Things are as they’ve always been…just with a tad more innuendo and touching. Not that Eggsy and Merlin never touched before because that would be weird as fuck; it’s just those bodily actions linger.

An arm draped over a shoulder or around a waist, thighs pressed up against one another, fingers poking dimples.

It’s not uncomfortable, either. Eggsy, while he could be described as shy or chilly at first, is always willing to dole out a hug or link arms with his mates, though he’s certain that if Ryan or Jamal began repeatedly flicking the dimples upon his cheeks, he would think it strange.

When Merlin does it, it’s just another reason to rub his bald head.

“For good luck, yeah?” he teases, earning a scowl from his mentor. “That’s why you shaved all your hair off, right?”

The one-eighty that Harry pulled—well, it’s nowhere in sight. They keep inching towards the next stage, taking their time while ignoring a variety of lewd comments from their colleagues.

As Eggsy watches Merlin pacing a conference room, mobile in hand, all confident and articulate as he speaks to a client, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

Not just a peck on the cheek, either. But to really snog Merlin.

The kind that ends up with both of them lacking clothes.

“You’re still gawking,” Roxy singsongs as she whizzes by him with impeccable timing.

He rolls his eyes. “So what if I am?” Eggsy grumbles to no one in particular.

 

* * *

 

It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon and Eggsy and James are launching paper airplanes across the floor to see who can go the further.

Roxy is off at a client site with Percy and Merlin mentioned something about getting coffee, though he can’t be fucked to remember at the current time.

“I don’t think cuttin’ holes is gonna help you, bruv,” Eggsy tells his friend, who is seems dead set on coming up with the fanciest design possible.

James glares at him. “What are you now? An aeroplane designer?”

“Nah, just a lad who understands basic physics,” he quips, moving his arm back and forth before chucking the plane. Eggsy watches its trajectory as the paper plane sails gracefully through the air, clearing the schematic table and promptly landing at Richmond Valentine’s feet.

Both Eggsy and James shoot to their feet, cursing and scrambling to look like responsible adults while Gazelle bends down to inspect the plane. In a horrified silence, they watch as she shows it to Valentine with a bemused Mona Lisa smile on her face.

“Your folding could use a bit of work,” Gazelle says after a while.

Valentine, on the other hand, is looking around the office before his gaze lands on the two employees. “Eggsy, my man!” he bellows happily, throwing his arms up in excitement. He’s wearing a terrible ensemble of plaid, too loud for it to be decent. Having no judgment when it comes to bodily contact, Valentine sweeps Eggsy into a hug. “How are you doing, man? You look great! Doesn’t he look great, Gazzy?”

Eggsy goes to make a reply, but finds that his cheeks are being smashed into his face by the eccentric American’s hands. If this keeps up, he may end up swallowing his tongue.

“Yes, he does,” Gazelle tells her boss, brushing by him to extend her hand to James. “We met briefly. Gazelle.”

His colleague nods, still stunned. “James Lance,” he replies.

“How,” Eggsy starts, removing himself from Valentine’s palms. “How are you doing?”

“The usual,” the American says. “Busy, busy, busy. We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop in to say hi.” Valentine is now busying himself with the office decor. “So these are the new digs, man? I like it! Less stuffy than Kingsman. I feel like I can breathe; don’t you feel like you can breathe, Gazzy?”

She nods in agreement. “Yes,” she says. “It’s less constricting.”

“Does Chester know you’re here?” Eggsy inquires, sounding nervous. “He might go off his nut if he finds out, guv.”

Valentine, who is facing the window, turns around and frowns as he shakes his head. “Fuck Chester King,” he exclaims. “Fired that asshole—or _arsehole_ , as you say—a month ago.”

“Pardon?” Eggsy and James gasp, jaws slack.

“Yeah, Gazzy and I got rid of him,” he explains. How he’s so blasé about it is beyond— _beyond_ —either architect, but then again, Valentine doesn’t operate in a normal reality. “Old man couldn’t deliver and the kid they replaced you with…that nephew of his. Dumbest. Fucking. Kid. I’ve _ever_ met. Who the fuck hired him? Matter of fact, who the fuck let him into school?” The man purses his lips together, still shaking his head. “Anyways, we got rid of them.”

Nodding, Eggsy leans in to whisper into James’ ear, “Call Merlin, _now_.”

His colleague is off like a shot while he offers their unexpected guests refreshments and a quick tour of the office to delay them.

Valentine hasn’t changed a bit; he’s still an over exuberant child stuck in a grown man’s body and comments excitedly about the offices. “I noticed your name on the front door,” he stage whispers, nudging Eggsy in the ribs with a bright smile. “Greaves, Morton, Lance & _Unwin_. I like it!”

“We couldn’t think of anything better as a name,” Eggsy confesses, feeling a bit nervous in Gazelle and her boss’ presence. “James suggested Blackadder and Associates, but Roxy nixed it.”

Gazelle raises a brow. “Roxy is?”

“One of the Mortons,” he elaborates. “Her brother, Percy, is the other. Obviously. Percival is his given name.” Eggsy winces at himself, trying to force a smile. “Merlin is the one who handles potential clients,” the young man confesses in a moment of verbal diarrhea. “I can’t be trusted not to make an arse out of myself.”

To his surprise, both Valentine and Gazelle chuckle at him. The former claps him on the shoulder, giving the joint a squeeze.

“Why do you think I have Gazzy?” he offers, winking as he breezes by to see the balcony.

Merlin comes in like a stampede, winded and looking wide eyed in that frazzled sort of way. He is throwing down his coat and bag while engaging James in a heated conversation across the office. Eggsy can’t hear the exact words, but it probably is along the lines of ‘Is this man mad? What the fuck is he doing here? Jesus _bloody_ Christ!’

“There he is!” Valentine shouts, raising his arms as he approaches Merlin for a hug. “You’re looking good man! Gazzy, don’t Merlin look good?”

His mentor makes an aborted sound similar to a shriek and begrudgingly returns the embrace with a scowl. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Richmond,” Merlin replies, his expression turning to a full on glare when he notices Eggsy and James snickering at him. “What brings you into our neck of the woods?”

“Mr. Valentine released Kingsman from their contract,” Eggsy supplies.

Merlin, for lack of a better word, looks positively stunned. “Oh,” he says, nodding in understanding. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“This is _me_ , Merlin,” Valentine scoffs. “They’re fucking idiots. I was just telling Eggsy that Chester couldn’t deliver. Never liked bullies, if you want me to be honest, and that man was a _bully_ with a capital B! Anyways, that’s when we came looking for you guys!”

“And how _did_ you find us?” Merlin inquires, leading the billionaire and his assistant to the conference room. “Our website isn’t even finished.”

Which is true; Ryan is still working on it and should have the thing done by the end of the week. Hell, Eggsy doesn’t think their number is listed in the phone directory!

Valentine chuckles conspiratorially with Gazelle. “We have our ways,” the latter answers.

“If you two ever decided to become evil geniuses, you’d be a force to reckon with,” Merlin deadpans, to which they laugh.

After an hour of listening to Valentine (with some of Gazelle’s input) going on about a very long list of complaints about how the design went wrong, Merlin, Eggsy, and James exchange glances before the former speaks.

“You understand that we are a lot of _smaller_ than Kingsman Engineers,” Merlin points out. “The other two-fifths are off-site at the moment and that’s it. Just the five of us.”

Gazelle smiles. “We are aware of the size of your firm, Mr. Greaves,” she explains as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a thick envelope. “However, Mr. Valentine feels that you are more than capable of delivering on the architectural and engineering design. In fact, we would like your firm to be included during the contractor procurement.”

The envelope is slid across the table and into Merlin’s hands. With a nod of encouragement from Gazelle, he opens it while Eggsy and James peer over his shoulders.

It’s all standard language, similar to the one they initially saw when all three worked at Kingsman. Eggsy wouldn’t expect anything less from Valentine, even with how nutty the chap is. Some sections are added to include the procurement process and, by Christ on a Holy Cross, an agreement to become the resident architect for Valentine’s European division with an astronomical sum next to it.

“I’ll ring Roxy and Percy,” Eggsy whispers before excusing himself.

A half hour later, the Mortons show up looking every bit as confused and bewildered as Merlin had. They are reintroduced to Valentine and Gazelle before taking a seat at the conference room table to read over the contract for themselves.

“I understand that you would want your attorneys to review the document,” Valentine reasons. “And to mull it over between the five of you.”

Gazelle nods in agreement. “I will send an electronic copy,” she adds.

Eggsy is watching as Roxy’s eyes widen at the dollar amount while Percy disguises a suspicious choking sound as a cough.

“Is this contract identical to the one given to Kingsman?” Merlin inquires.

“Nearly,” Gazelle answers. “Save for the additional services. You have experience with providing them, correct?”

Merlin glances at James and Percy. “The three of us do,” he says. “Mr. Lance rolled out the procurement system for several large scale commercial clients.”

“Hold on a minute,” Valentine announces, holding his hand out to cease all conversation. He closes his eyes and does that Zen thing Eggsy recalls from early in their acquaintance, oblivious to the staring of five pairs of eyes all of whom are confused.

Roxy leans over and asks Gazelle very quietly, “Is he alright?”

“He does that when he’s thinking,” she replies with a shrug, as if she even fails to understand his behavior.

Valentine’s eyes open. “I want to amend the contract,” he states to Gazelle, “and I want to proposal a partnership between our companies.”

“A partnership?” Percy and James say in unison as Roxy blurts out, “Are you mad?”

Merlin cocks his head. “What sort of partnership?”

“I like building things, you like designing things,” Valentine points out. He leaves his seat and begins pacing the conference room. “Granted the things I build are electronic consumer goods, but _what if_ I expanded? Fuckers do it every day! What if we joined forces —you know, like Jedis or Star Trek or some shit—and made the programs used for your industry _even better_!”

Eggsy turns to his mentor, who has the dourest of looks on his face. “Jedis or Star Trek?” he mumbles, turning to him with an insult on his tongue. “That has _nothing_ to do with design!”

“What Mr. Valentine is trying to convey is that he would like to become a silent partner in your firm,” Gazelle clarifies, “while developing new technologies for the industry. You would have input on these programs as well as beta testing abilities.”

How the hell she is able to translate what comes out of that bloke’s head is beyond Eggsy, and everyone else for that matter. Gazelle is a sorceress or something similar.

“A silent partner?” Merlin questions, brows furrowed. “How much decision capabilities are you expecting from being a silent partner, Mr. Valentine? Part of the reason why the five of us started our own firm was to be able to make decisions as a team with the added benefit of knowing what is best for us, hence why I am asking.”

Valentine folds his arms over his chest. “I am a billionaire, man! I don’t want to be responsible on deciding _more_ shit! _Especially_ shit I don’t understand. Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t know the first thing about whatever you guys do. Why would I want to decide on how you run your business?”

“So you’d basically be funding our firm?” the Scotsman counters, surprised.

“Pretty much.”

The five employees of Greaves, Morton, Lance, & Unwin—the only employees—exchange a fair amount of looks that range from eager to utterly baffled. Underneath the myriad of emotions in regards to the current circumstances, there lies one glaringly obvious question: Why _shouldn’t_ they do it?

It’s not like they had a non-compete clause with Kingsman and even if they did, Valentine would certainly take care of it for them.

Merlin leans back in his seat pursing his lips in consideration at his colleagues’ nonverbal cues. His eyes fall upon Eggsy, who just shrugs in reply. “Our barrister will need to see a revised contract to include the potential partnership,” Merlin states. “And we’ll require an exit clause in case our firm finds the arrangement unsuitable at any time.”

Gazelle nods. “I can have that over to you all by tomorrow afternoon,” she offers.

“A penalty clause will also be drawn up on our end,” he adds with a friendly smile. “The usual contract language, of course.”

“Of course,” Gazelle echoes.

Eggsy clears his throat. “And we keep our name,” he interjects. His comment is met with Roxy kicking him in the shin. “Ouch! What the hell, Rox?”

“Yes,” Merlin agrees over the commotion. “The firm name stays, no additions.”

Valentine seems to be fine with this. “Works for me,” he tells Gazelle, who goes to stand up.

“The new contract will be send via courier tomorrow,” the assistant says as she shakes each of their hands. “It will include an electronic copy along with the necessary contact information.”

They walk them to the door where Valentine hugs each one of them, even Merlin, who _hates_ unwanted physical contact, before turning to Eggsy. “Man, it’s good to see you guys,” the billionaire exclaims with a toothy smile. “So fucking good to see you!” He hugs the youngest man, slapping him hard on the back.

“Always good to see you, Mr. Valentine,” Eggsy wheezes when he’s finally let go of. He feels Merlin rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades, easing away the sting of the American’s hand.

“Hey, did you two start dating yet?” Valentine asks them, moving his index finger between both mentor and protégé. Stunned, they shake their heads. “Fucking?” Another shake. Valentine frowns, waving his hands at Eggsy and Merlin. “Nothing? Man, you both need to get on that!”

 

* * *

 

Contract negotiations take weeks once all of them unanimously agree on taking Valentine up on his offer; that is the way it is.

Merlin and Roxy are incredibly shrewd business-folk, leaving no speck of black ink or bits of white space unturned without consulting the firm’s barrister. They hole themselves up in the conference room for hours and subsist on sandwiches from the pub around the corner and coffee.

Loads of coffee.

So much coffee that Eggsy is beginning to believe that they’ll come into the kitchen in his and Roxy’s flat and find his mate turned into a French press.

He’s even lucky to see her at all for as much time she’s spending with Merlin on the contracts. Eggsy barely sees his mentor, come to think of it.

He sees him in the morning, during various bathroom breaks or when he pops out for lunch, and if Merlin is lucky enough to leave before Eggsy. That hardly ever happens.

Very unlike the circumstances with Harry, it doesn’t leave him feeling put out. There are some forms of communications other than a polite hello. Those come in the form of whiny messages and emails, sometimes a phone call at odd hours when Merlin knows Eggsy will be awake.

“Fancy talking a mate off a ledge?” he’ll say, earning a chuckle from the young man to which Eggsy replies with a cheeky, “Suppose I could.”

Those chats are filled with the usual bickering, laughter, and flirtation as it turns out. He reckons that there is a slight chance that he and Merlin always had some sort of teasing overtones to their relationship, for all they like to rib the other on, though neither of them realized it.

“If I see another speck of contract lingo, I might end up murdering someone in Valentine’s legal department,” Merlin complains late one night.

Eggsy is in bed, flipping through an old school book by Matthew Frederick. “I’d think that one through, bruv,” he offers. “Don’t think we have the money to post your bond, much less get you a decent barrister.”

“Roxy and Percy are from one of those aristocratic families,” his mentor says. “Perhaps they know someone who will do pro bono work or even get me a pardon from the Queen.”

He laughs. “A pardon?” he squawks, flipping to another chapter. “I think ol’ Lizzy has better things to do with her time than get you out of a jam.”

“What on Earth is that sound?”

“It’s a book,” Eggsy replies. “You must remember those, yeah? Had ‘em around in the Stone Ages.”

Merlin grumbles under his breath. “I hope its heavy enough to smack you with. Which one is it?”

“ _101 Things I Learned in Architecture School_ ,” Eggsy tells him once he’s flipped back to the tattered cover. “Jim got it for me when I was accepted into the Bartlett.” He grins at the memory of his foster dad. “Didn’t even wrap it up; just shoved this book at me, grinnin’ like a lunatic.”

He hears Merlin’s sigh through the speaker of his mobile. “I have no doubt in my mind that he’d be very proud of you,” the older man says and not in that awkward way; he sounds sincere. “So what _did_ you learn in architecture school?”

“Absolutely nothin’ that could be applied in the real world,” he quips. “And how to make coffee, of course.”

Merlin laughs. “Of course. Speaking of beverages…”

“Oi! You can make your _own_ coffee, bruv,” Eggsy counters, cutting off the older man’s sentence. “I’m a principal now!”

A rumble of laughter fills his ear, throaty and seductive; something that makes his heart rate spike and warms his skin. “Once Rox and I send out the final revisions, I’ll be off coffee for a while. Speaking of which, where is our illustrious Miss Morton?”

“Fell asleep on the couch while we was watchin’ the telly. Put a blanket on her and left the hallway light on just in case if she came to.”

“How noble of you, Mr. Unwin.” Merlin is moving about now and judging by the sound of it, he’s roaming around his kitchen. “Back to what I was about to speak to you about. I recall mentioning us having dinner at another time.”

Eggsy allows the book drop onto his comforter, stunned that Merlin has even brought it up. He figured he’d need to do it eventually with all that was going on or that the older man had entirely forgotten. “I recall somethin’ to that effect.”

“How does this Friday evening sound?” Merlin inquires. “Just the two of us somewhere that our colleagues or Valentine, for that matter, can’t track us down.”

He chuckles. “So long as it doesn’t involve Chinese food, I believe I can do that.”

“You’re still off Chinese, eh?”

“Clearly you’ve never had it go up your nose,” Eggsy grouses.

Merlin scoffs at this. “You will _never_ let that go, will you?” He sighs dramatically, at Eggsy’s expense. “How does Mexican sound?”

“Works for me,” he answers, smiling to himself.

The older snorts in amusement. “Oh, very good. I suppose it’s a date, then,” Merlin tells him. “And if you behave, perhaps I’ll give you a kiss at the end of the night.”

“ _If_ I behave,” Eggsy mimics, rolling his eyes. “Says the man who gets violently offended when someone doesn’t think Arsenal is the best football club on the planet.”

“It _is_ offensive!” Merlin counters, sounding…well…offended. “They ought to get their heads checked if they think that any club is better than my boys!”

Eggsy knows better than to argue this point with his mentor. “Right, right,” he says, sighing. “No one is better than ‘em, yeah? Happy now, bruv?”

The phone conversation ends with the usual pleasantries, which makes the friends sound like they’re fighting.

As he’s falling asleep, Eggsy muses that it’s kind of nice not to tread carefully with Merlin, nor does he have to worry about saying the wrong thing. They can skip the getting to know you bits and settle right into being comfortable. It’s probably one of the nicest feelings he’s had in awhile.

Several days later, the contract is finally signed with nine signatures, five of which come from Greaves, Morton, Lance, & Unwin. As soon as the final one has dried, they all breathe a sigh of relief. Now that the hard part is out of the way, the office takes on a more jovial atmosphere - not that it was ever bad.

Intense is an apt choice of words, but he can’t be too picky.

Regardless, Eggsy finds that everyone is quite happy when he walks in on Friday morning with Roxy. James and Percy have taken it upon themselves to buy everyone pastries from a fancy bakery in their neighborhood, which the four of them gather around.

“Bet Chester will crap his trousers when he sees the announcement,” James declares as he sips on his coffee. He has his arm slung over Percy’s shoulders and absently rubs his thumb over the material of his boyfriend’s shirt.

The other man shrugs, tucking his head into the curve of James’ neck. “Perhaps we’ll get lucky and he’ll drop dead,” Percy offers with a sleepy grin.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Eggsy replies, leaning over the box as he picks at a scone. “Mad ol’ coot will outlive us all! Like a bloody cockroach.”

Roxy nearly chokes on her muffin, laughing hysterically until she can compose herself. “Now that’s just insulting to all insects included in the Blattodea order!”

“Also that’s too kind for the likes of him,” Percy adds as his little sister appears in plain view, holding a rolled up drawing under one arm. “Perhaps an amoeba, Rox?”

She shrugs after thinking this over. “I suspect amoebas have more common courtesy than Chester King,” she says. “Plus, you’re forgetting he’s related to Charlie.”

All of the men groan in remembrance.

“He’s a steaming pile of shite then!” James announces. “Festering in the summer sun.”

A mixture of disgust and amusement forms on Roxy’s face. “What a lovely image,” she says, dourly.

“I know what can make-up for it!” her brother’s boyfriend tells them, removing his arm from Percy and digging into the back pocket of his trousers. He produces five tickets, waving them around like a maniac as Merlin comes into the office. “You’re just in time, old scout. Get over here.”

Merlin looks like he’s torn between running off and locking himself in the toilets or just going along with whatever James has planned. “How are you even speaking, much less smiling at this hour?” he grouses, dumping his bag onto Eggsy’s desk.

“Magic,” the younger man whispers into his ear, causing the Scotsman to grin.

James shakes his head. “Ye have no faith! To celebrate our spectacular achievement of not only running our own firm, but landing a contract with Valentine—bless his insane heart—I am taking us to see a show at Scala.” He shoots a glare at Merlin. “And I mean _all_ of us, mate.”

The older man groans, plucking the tickets from James’ grasp. “This is tonight,” he states.

“Yeah so?”

“Can’t go tonight,” Merlin tells him. “Eggsy and I have plans.”

This suddenly gains more interest than concert tickets as Roxy wraps her arms around Eggsy’s middle, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Plans?” she coos. “What sort of plans, Merlin?”

“The type of plans that don’t involve you lot crashing it at inopportune moments,” Eggsy grumbles.

Merlin nods in agreement. “Yes. I’m afraid neither of us can say more,” he apologizes insincerely as James begins to pout. He stares at him for several moments before conceding. “Perhaps we can meet up with you afterward.”

“No,” James states, “you _will_ meet up with us. The both of you, or Roxy will place GPS in Eggsy’s phone to find where you two are hiding out.”

Roxy, the devious cheek, grins at this. “He’s not lying,” she says.

“Hand over ‘em over,” Eggsy tells James, who does as he’s told. “Wouldn’t put it past Merlin to ‘accidentally on purpose’ lose these.”

“Whose side are you on?” Merlin demands with one of his trademark scowls.

Eggsy fledges innocence. “Ours, of course! Why do you think I’m goin’ along with this nonsense?”

“It might be nonsense, but where would you two be without us?” James asks.

“Rather bored, I think,” Percy interjects in complete seriousness.

Merlin palms his face as he directs himself towards the kitchen to escape the madness of his colleagues, leaving Eggsy to fend for himself.

The bastard.

 

* * *

 

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Eggsy finds that Merlin knows how to act like a normal human being going on a date.

Not that he wasn’t aware of that—after all, he’s known the bloke for seven years—but the way they interact is different. Eggsy has seen Merlin turn on the charm and dote upon previous birds and chaps he’s dated; the fondness in his expression when the older man looks upon his partner or how his body rotates around them. He’s considerate and attentive while allowing enough breathing room—everything Eggsy reckons a boyfriend or girlfriend ought to be.

“You look surprised,” Merlin says when he opens the passenger door to the cab and notices the perplexed expression on Eggsy’s face. He’s wearing an outfit befitting a first date—a leather motorcycle jacket (though Eggsy is certain he’s never been on one), dark V-neck shirt, and jeans; a bit done up, yet still keeping things casual.

Tilting his head at the sight, Eggsy cracks a grin. “Never pictured you as the type to pick someone up,” he snickers as he climbs in, catching a pleasant whiff of cologne.

“It’s the polite thing to do,” the older man replies, gently nudging him in the ribs as he gives the driver an address. He notices how Eggsy is about to make a smart arsed remark. “And I _can_ be polite, mind you.”

“Sure ‘bout that, bruv?” he asks, still grinning. “Don’t change on my account; wouldn’t want you tryin’ to become a wanker just to impress me.”

He catches a glimpse of Merlin rolling in his eyes in the light of oncoming headlights. “I’ve gotten far too comfortable with being a regular wanker in front of you,” he says. “Why change now?”

“You know what they say ‘bout ol’ dogs.”

That earns a glare and a pinch to his side, causing Eggsy to squirm. “Old dogs,” Merlin snorts. “Whatever happened to respecting your elders, hm?”

“Since when have I  _ever_  respected you?” he jokes as his mentor tries to suppress a smile. He leans over and pokes one corner of Merlin’s mouth. “Hamish, are you _grinnin’_? Is that a grin I see? Oh my stars, it is!”

Merlin grabs his hand, pulling Eggsy’s finger away from his face. “Acting like you’ve never seen it before,” he grumbles, lacing their fingers together.

Glancing down at their interlocked hands, he notes the difference between them. Merlin has decidedly elegant fingers and slightly darker skin than Eggsy’s. He runs his thumb over knuckles with a dusting of near black hair, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Perhaps I’ll kiss you next,” Merlin whispers into his ear, his Scottish brogue all thick and husky.

Eggsy snickers. “All talk and no action,” he murmurs, deciding that holding hands with Merlin is not the worst or awkward thing in sphere of his world as the rest of the cab ride continues in a comfortable silence.

Dinner, on the other hand, is filled with a constant stream of chatter. Small talk has never dominated their conversations, even when Eggsy and Merlin first met.

“Do you remember that?” the latter asks, chuckling as he spoons some sour cream onto his fajita. “I was about ready to throttle you, cheeky little berk.”

Eggsy holds up his hands in mock surrender. “In my defense, you _were_ wrong! Whatever we was debatin’.”

“The design influences of Frank Lloyd Wright,” Merlin tells him. “You began to argue with me about his use of music in his buildings.”

He shrugs. “Sounds like somethin’ I’d do,” he admits. “Besides, I kept your seminar interestin, yeah? Couldn’t say you was bored.”

“Definitely not,” the older man agrees between bites. “You have managed to keep my life very entertaining.”

“You’re very welcome,” Eggsy says once he’s swallowed his food.

Merlin’s brows furrow momentarily before he reaches across the table and swipes a finger against Eggsy’s bottom lip. “You had some salsa,” he explains once he’s settled back in his seat. Instead of wiping the food from his skin, he brings the digit to his mouth and tongues it away.

The sight makes Eggsy a bit weak in the knees. He’s thought about how it would be to kiss Merlin, more than he’s willing to admit. With the whirlwind of the contract and him finally accepting that his feelings towards his mentor and friend have evolved, it’s safe to say that Eggsy wouldn’t exactly mind snogging him.

Or doing a matter of other things that are highly inappropriate for public discussion and best to be saved for his solitary bed late at night.

It’s not the sudden rush Eggsy experienced with Harry—that red-hot lust which ended up driving him out of his damn mind—but a slow, gradual build of feelings that has nothing to do with his cock.

Not that his dick ain’t interested. It twitches as Eggsy watches Merlin’s tongue curl around his finger, lapping up the salsa as if he was doing it to the younger man’s body.

“You’re a bloody nightmare, you are!” the younger man cries once he’s able to speak again. “A tease!”

“How so?” Merlin asks innocently.

Eggsy purses his lips together in a pout. “You’re a terrible person,” he grouses.

“I know,” his mentor agrees, sounding a bit _too_ pleased with himself.

Dinner turns into some drinks at a bar down the street from Scala. It’s an attempt to snatch whatever remaining time they have alone before meeting up with James, Percy, Roxy, and everyone else who will be in attendance.

“Rox is going to make you dance. I hope you know that,” Eggsy tells Merlin when he comes back to their little nook with drinks in hand.

Merlin groans as he scoots in next to Eggsy. “She should very well know that I _do not_ dance.”

“Never underestimate a Morton, especially our Roxy,” he replies before taking a drink from his beer. “That bird is aces, let me tell you, and she _will_ get you to dance.” Eggsy looks at him. “Perhaps some foxtrot or tango?”

Merlin shakes his head as he consumes his drink, scotch. “I know of these things, but I do not do them,” he says.

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I said so,” he counters. “That’s a good enough reason.”

Eggsy raises a brow while his eyes roll about. “That excuse only worked when I was your student and TA, bruv,” he tells him. “Got to come up with somethin’ better.”

Merlin ponders this for a bit as his teeth draw over his bottom lip. After several minutes, he cracks a smile and leans over to whisper into Eggsy’s ear. “If you make me dance, I won’t kiss you goodnight,” he playfully threatens.

“Now _that’s_ just a low blow, man!” Eggsy complains, giving Merlin a shove. He watches the older man laugh, noticing how even in shit mood lighting, his eyes are still twinkling. “Well, that’s just fine,” he says. “Wasn’t wantin’ to put out anyways.”

His date shrugs. “Then I have nothing to tell my friends when they ask how our date went,” Merlin sighs, looking at his drink before downing the rest of it.

“You told your friends that you’re out with me?” Eggsy intones, hoarsely.

Merlin nods as he busies himself with chewing on ice. “Yeah,” he replies, words garbled. “Carla was certain we were already sleeping together and lost ten pounds to John and Yumi. Which reminds me, Yumi told me to say it’s about fucking time we sorted ourselves out.”

To anyone else, it seems that Merlin was just having another conversation about mates of his who also know Eggsy by association. It’s normal chat, nothing to be surprised about. To him, however, it’s something else entirely.

This—whatever it turns out to be—isn’t going to be kept a secret. They can navigate the waters out in the open, without the looming worry of being discovered.

“Well, you tell Yumi that you’re the one who took fuckin’ forever,” Eggsy counters, smiling.

Merlin laughs. “Why is it my fault?”

“The oldest is supposed to be the more responsible one, yeah?” He happens to glance down at his phone, noticing the time. With a sigh, Eggsy turns to Merlin. “Ready to face the music?”

His date drops his head onto the top of his seat. “Not really,” Merlin admits. “Perhaps we can sneak out once they get distracted.”

“Unlikely, but we can formulate a plan of escape if you’re game,” Eggsy offers as they leave the bar and head to Scala.

Merlin slings his arm over his shoulders, pulling the younger man into his side. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

* * *

 

Roxy finds them at the coat check and squeals in delight as she throws her arms around both men.

“Percy and James have already found us a place on the floor,” she shouts over the opening band. Taking Eggsy’s hand, who in turn latches onto Merlin, Roxy drags them through the crowd. She’s dressed to the nines and ready for a bit of fun after dealing with the Valentine contract.

They find their other colleagues standing towards the center of the main floor, swaying to the music of the band on stage. Roxy lets go of Eggsy’s hand and goes to leap onto Percy, laughing as he catches her. They spin around before the eldest Morton puts the younger back on the floor.

“You two made it!” James says over the music, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. “And just in time, too. The main act is going on in a bit. Do you blokes fancy a drink?”

Merlin and James go off to get around of various alcoholic beverages while the rest of the group listens to the last song.

“So,” Roxy whispers once the lights have gone up and the opening band is clearing the stage. She slips her arms around his waist, resting her head against his bicep. “How’s the date going?”

Eggsy chuckles as he hugs her back. “I’m surprised you managed to wait until the first band was done,” he teases.

“Oh come _on_!” she scoffs, glaring at him. “Are you at least having fun?”

It’s pure luck that Merlin appears at his side with drinks in hand. “Here you go,” he says as he passes two of them off to Roxy and Eggsy. “What did I miss?”

“Miss Morton being a nosy cheek,” the latter tells him, earning a shriek from the former. Eggsy sticks his tongue at her. “You are!”

Merlin tilts his head at Roxy. “What are you trying to pry out of him?”

“I asked him if he was having fun,” she says, hip checking the younger man.

“Oh, like the fun you’re havin’ with Rufus, yeah?” Eggsy counters, delighting in the blush that crawls upon Roxy’s cheeks. He laughs at her. “Ooh! Does someone fancy a chap?”

Instead of answering, Roxy turns around and begins to chat up her brother and James, much to Eggsy’s amusement.

“Are you having fun?” Merlin asks, having become very close to the younger man’s ear.

The proximity of his voice and body makes Eggsy shiver. He turns to find Merlin’s face centimeters away from his own just as the main performer comes on stage and introduces himself. “Who’s askin’?” Eggsy inquires as the floor lights die down and the music starts up.

He vaguely recognizes the tune, something he’s heard on the radio, but in all honesty his attention is focused on Merlin who glances over at their mates.

“Not the general public,” he laughs.

Eggsy follows his gaze to find Roxy and James dancing like maniacs while Percy avoids having his drink split on his person. His flatmate catches him and rushes over, grabbing both Eggsy and Merlin by the hands. With bodily strength that he never reckoned she had, Roxy drags them over.

“Dance, you Scottish bastard!” she yells over the music, dropping Eggsy’s hand in favor of forcing Merlin to dance with her.

As it turns out, Merlin isn’t a half bad dancer, even with how begrudgingly he does it. Eggsy watches in a mixture of amusement and sympathy until James decides to also make the young man dance with him and Percy.

The song continues on, echoing all around the crowd as they sing along with the performer.

Somewhere between the bridge and refrain, he and Merlin are pushed together once again under strobing lights. There is intent in both men’s stare, beginning at lips and ending with their eyes. A fellow concert goer nudges Eggsy forward without him realizing it because he’s too focused on whether or not he should kiss Merlin first.

They surge forward, embracing as their lips touch and the stage lights set the world around them on fire.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and love to my lovely beta, Bre, and to my other enablers: Leah, Sophie, Mara, and Zin!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been following this story, especially those who bothered to read the tags.

“Fuck!” Eggsy cries out as his back is literally slammed into his front door.

His complaint ends as quickly as it left his mouth, for it's swallowed by Merlin’s tongue brushing against his own while his shirt is being fisted. The keys to the flat drop onto the welcome mat because Eggsy would much rather be squeezing Merlin’s bum than holding them anyways.

A warm hand finds its way onto the bare skin of his waist, fingers digging in and pulling him closer. Standing on tiptoes, the young man pulls Merlin closer and sighs into the heated embrace, ignoring how the door knob is painfully pressing into the small of his back.

To be honest, he’s really surprised they’ve managed to keep their clothes on, much less back to the threshold of Eggsy’s flat.

“Merlin,” he groans once their mouths have disengaged and the aforementioned gentleman is now focusing his attention on Eggsy’s neck. He shudders against the scrape of teeth at the junction of his jaw, just over his pulse, and squeezes the arse in his hands. “We…we should get inside.”

“Hrm?” Merlin whispers against his skin before pulling back. His eyes are heavy-lidded and his lips swollen from making out, but fuck, it makes Eggsy want him even more.

He nods to the door. “You want to continue this inside?” he asks. “Don’t want someone catchin’ us and the doorknob is bruisin’ my back.”

“Shit!” Merlin exclaims, pulling Eggsy away from the door to glance at his back. “Sorry about that. Are you alright?”

Eggsy makes a face. “Just a bit tender,” he says. “Perhaps you can kiss it better, yeah?”

“I’ll do more than that,” the older man promises and kisses him on the mouth.

They perform a bodily shuffle that allows Eggsy to pick up his dropped keys and open the door to his flat. As soon as the lights are flicked on and everything is locked up, the two men are back to groping each other while trying to navigate their way to the young man’s bedroom.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he groans as he pulls Merlin inside and removes his jacket, dropping on the carpet. Running his hands up the older man’s arms, he makes a noise of appreciation. “Wanted you naked for ages!”

Merlin chuckles while he takes off his own shirt, followed by Eggsy’s jacket. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Was tryn’a be a gentleman!” he exclaims as his sweater is pulled over his torso and head, and then tossed carelessly onto a growing pile of clothes. Eggsy catches the sound of Merlin snorting. “I was! Unlike you, you cocktease!”

His date pulls him by the loops of his trousers, staring down at Eggsy like he’s going to devour him. “You think I’m a tease now?” Merlin leers, fingers walking over the young man’s stomach towards the clasp of his belt and making _damn sure_ they graze his growing bulge. An aborted whine escapes Eggsy’s lips. “Should probably go about changing that, don’t you agree?”

Eggsy wholehearted approves of this plan. In fact, he would tell the older man so if he wasn’t being backed into the bedroom door, thus shutting it with his body. As he goes to say something, Merlin’s lips and teeth are back on his mouth and having their dirty way with it. He moans into it, not even caring if he sounds like one of them porn stars, because fuck if Merlin’s mouth isn’t something to reckon with.

Their tongues bat against each other, igniting muffled curses and sharp breaths when both men aren’t exploring each other with their hands. Merlin’s fingers tweak one of Eggsy’s nipples, pinching and then running his thumb over the hardening nub.

A trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses follow and soon his nipple is immersed in slick heat while Merlin’s free hand presses lightly against Eggsy’s neck. His fingers graze the younger man’s bottom lip, becoming damp with his saliva as he moans.

“Fuck,” Eggsy breathes into Merlin’s palm. He darts his tongue over the network of lines and salty skin, tasting the other man. His teeth chafe against fingertips, igniting a moan when the hand at his throat tightens.

Merlin glances up at him. “You like that?” he asks, voice rough with arousal. His thumb brushes over the column of the young man’s larynx, watching as Eggsy’s skin pimples with goosebumps. “Kinky little shit.”

“Don’t act like it doesn’t make you hard,” he grouses, words slightly muffled by Merlin’s fingers. His eyes meet the older man’s and he smirks. “Haven’t you always wanted to throttle my neck?”

He watches Merlin snort into his chest. “I’d much prefer not to cause strangulation,” he explains, moving back up Eggsy’s body. “But perhaps a few nips would not go amiss?”

“No,” Eggsy sighs as he shuts his eyes when the sharp edge of Merlin’s nibble his sensitive skin. His belt is being loosened and undone, paving the way for his trousers and underwear to be taken off. Which is done along with his socks because in their right mind would wear socks during sex? Eggsy kicks them away and realizes that he’s naked in front of Merlin, who is still half dressed.

He gives Merlin a pointed look and quips, “I’m startin’ to feel a bit underdressed, bruv.”

“Pardon?” his soon-to-be lover inquires as he glances down between them. Merlin is a smart bloke and realizes the disadvantage Eggsy is at, giving him a smile as he begins to undo his belt. “Very sorry, dearest. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

Eggsy is mesmerized as his mentor’s naked body is revealed to him; all cut lines dusted with dark hair that grows thicker nearer to Merlin’s cock. He has sinewy arms and broad shoulders; pale skin without a blemish or birthmarks and just begging to be sucked upon.

And good God his dick is something else entirely.

He is salivating at the flushed length between Merlin’s thighs, jutting out proudly and dripping with beads of precum. Eggsy is tempted to blow him because he’s been dreaming about it for a while now, ever since their near-kiss.

“Where are your condoms and lube?” Merlin asks.

“Nightstand,” Eggsy answers with a gesture. “Top drawer.”

They haven’t bothered to turn on the lights in the bedroom; the moon works well enough. Merlin’s skin seems to glow under the silvery illumination as he crosses the room. It clings to each curve of muscle, casting shadows on his other half.

Eggsy appreciates the sight, especially when Merlin walks back to him holding a link of unopened rubbers and a bottle of KY. “Really?” he questions as Merlin invades his personal space. Eggsy closes his eyes when Merlin’s lips press against his collarbone. “Four condoms? You think we can end up usin’ that many?”

“Perhaps, or we’ll strain ourselves trying,” Merlin teases, darting in to give the younger man’s mouth a gentle kiss before tearing the foil from one packet, dropping the rest on the floor beside their feet. He pinches the tip and proceeds to roll it down his length. “Turn around.”

He does as he’s told, swallowing as he faces the door. The pop of the bottle being uncapped fills the otherwise silent room and Eggsy realizes that any nervous or apprehensive feelings don’t plague him. Things will most definitely change once he and Merlin have sex; hell, everything changed the moment he drunkenly hit on the older man.

This evolution in their relationship should be nerve-inducing, but instead, Eggsy finds himself moaning and cursing as Merlin’s fingers breach his hole.

“Jesus!” the young man exclaims as he’s filled with one slick finger. It quirks inside of him, finding his prostate and teasing it. “Merlin, fuck!”

His mentor chuckles behind him, having busied his mouth with sucking abrasions onto the knobs of Eggsy’s spine. “Patience,” Merlin assures.

Eggsy doesn’t give a fuck about patience as he’s reduced to a babbling and incoherent mess. He’s pleading for _more, more, fuck please more_ as he helplessly grasps at the door.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Merlin breathes as he continues to stretch Eggsy’s arsehole, awestruck by this bit of information. His teeth graze at his shoulder blades. “So fucking tight, Jesus H. Christ!”

Another swipe against his prostate and Eggsy’s cock is twitching. “You need to get in me, bruv,” he warns, panting. “Might blow all over the door.”

“Can’t have that,” Merlin intones, removing his fingers and spinning Eggsy around to kiss him.

Eggsy’s world is tilted off its axis as the sensation of being lifted and his legs folded into his chest—because fuck, fuck, fuck Merlin is a strong bloke—overwhelms him. He grabs his lover’s shoulders, digging his fingers in as Merlin, the twat, decides to use that exact moment to thrust into him.

It’s a fairly quick fuck since they’re both impatient and need to have bodily contact as they go at it against Eggsy’s bedroom door. Each thrust jostles items on his dresser or hung on the walls, but he doesn’t notice until much later.

Eggsy’s concentration is on the precise movements of Merlin’s hips and how he’s unerringly hitting his prostate. He can barely string two words together for he’s wound so tightly and begging for release.

And dammit, Merlin is going to make him come with just his cock. On the first try, no less.

“Mer…” he gasps, a plea for his next thrust to end it. Eggsy throws his head back and cries out as his groin clenches and that is all she wrote.

He bends into Merlin as his cock stripes his torso with his release. A sharp sensation follows as his lover’s movements grow faster and harder.

Until he hears his lover’s guttural moan of his name and Eggsy realizes that they’ve should have done this sooner.

 

* * *

 

They’re lying on the floor in one of those post-orgasmic hazes that are comprised of tangled bodies and silences.

Not the uncomfortable kind—the too fucked out to speak at the moment kind. It’s too late for things to be awkward because, let’s be honest, once you’ve seen a bloke or bird’s O-face, you really have nothing to hide. So Eggsy uses the time to enjoy being in Merlin’s arms and without any peeping eyes, either.

God, he hopes Roxy has the foresight to not come home tonight.

“It’s very unusual for you to be this quiet,” Merlin comments as his index finger runs up and down the length of the young man’s spine.

Eggsy shoves his leg between his lover’s thighs, chuckling. “Got my brains fucked out of me,” he says. “Gonna take a bit for me to form more coherent sentences.”

“I consider that a job well done on my part,” the older man tells him.

“I hope you aren’t plannin’ on stoppin’ there, bruv,” Eggsy states, tilting his chin up. He wiggles his body deliberately. “Not often that I cum untouched and I wanted to see if you could do it again.”

Merlin shifts their bodies and ends up looming over the young man before bending down to nip at his jaw. “Oh, most definitely,” he says, moving down. “You’ve become a little tart and it’s quite arousing.”

“Ain’t no tart!” Eggsy counters, glaring up at him and ready to launch into a diatribe about exactly what he thinks about being called one when Merlin’s lips brush against his own.

It’s a gentle kiss, not one of those meant to shut the other up - the kind you see in films, but sweet and reassuring. They stay like that for a while, just making out on Eggsy’s bedroom floor until both men are hard and wanting.

Once another condom is in place on Merlin’s cock, Eggsy straddles his thighs with a palm planted in the center of his lover’s chest as he inches himself down.

As it turns out, being on top yields the same results as being fucked against his bedroom door. Eggsy can even ignore the resulting carpet burn.

 

* * *

 

“Did you always fancy me?” Eggsy asks later on.

He and Merlin are now in bed following a quick shower, huddled up under the comforter. “What are you going on about?” the Scotsman sighs. He is reclined on his back with an arm pillowed under his head, looking all handsome. “Did I always fancy you?”

“It’s a fair question,” Eggsy reminds him, rolling onto his stomach and using Merlin’s chest as a place to prop up his chin. “I can’t picture you engagin’ in the professor and student fantasy. You’re far too sensible for that.”

“Why thank you,” Merlin chuckles, placing his hand on the young man’s head. “And the answer is not at first. Not for a while, to be honest.” He massages Eggsy’s scalp and sighs. “You were in need of some guidance and not some old fart to take advantage of your trust, though I daresay Professor Milton thought we were fucking.”

Eggsy scoffs, remembering said professor. “That wanker gave me my _only_ poor mark! Had to spend three hours arguin’ with him and the dean to get the thing raised,” he grouses.

“I recall that,” his lover says. “It was before my seminar and George was going on about some young punk who thought he knew more.”

“Young punk!” he grumbles. “He was ol’ and out-of-date! Crusty arsehole!”

Merlin soothes his damp hair back and presses his lips against his temple. “Back to your question; it wasn’t until you got a bit older that my feelings towards you began to shift, I suppose.” He pauses, clearly deep in thought. “I looked at you one day and saw you differently; like ‘well, Eggsy’s looking rather handsome nowadays’. Nothing too outlandish, though you did finally grow into your jaw.”

“My jaw!” Eggsy shrieks, offended. He pops his head up and frowns while Merlin chuckles at him. “My jaw? What was wrong with _my_ jaw, you wanker?”

“Absolutely nothing, my dearest,” Merlin laughs, pinching a bit of the young man’s cheek. “It’s marvelous!”

Eggsy flicks the end of his lover’s nose. “Cheeky twat,” he complains, even as Merlin pulls him against his chest and pays attention to his jaw with his lips. “Oh, _now_ you appreciate it!”

“Hush you,” Merlin chastises. “You’re ruining my concentration.”

Flopping helplessly against the older man’s chest, Eggsy allows him to pepper his face with kisses despite his grumbling. He relaxes after a bit, sighing happily as Merlin devotes a fair amount of time to show him just how much he appreciates every bit of the young man.

As Merlin blows raspberries into Eggsy’s stomach, a thought enters his mind. “Did Harry know?” he asks before he can even stop himself, feeling slightly horrified to bring up an ex-boyfriend while lying in bed with another man; said ex-boyfriend’s mate, no less. “Did Harry know how you felt about me?”

“No,” Merlin says, resting his chin near the young man’s belly button. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a right arsehole but I never said a word about how I felt. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what it meant.”

Eggsy nods, still uncertain. “Do you still…” his voice trails off and he does that lip licking thing reserved for when he’s nervous.

“Talk to him?” his lover finishes and shakes his head. “We had a row the night you over indulged. In fact, I left his dinner party after I saw you two going at it on the street corner.” Merlin sighs, looking a bit ashamed, which surprises Eggsy. “Harry is a good man, but he doesn’t think about the feelings of others, as you have already figured out. And seeing you so upset…it gutted me that I wasn’t able to protect you.”

He reaches for Merlin, cupping his cheek in his palm. “Harry bein’ a wanker has nothin’ to do with you,” Eggsy assures.

“I know…” Merlin assures. “It’s just that I saw the state he put you in and heard you crying all night while he was off playing host.” Merlin kisses the inside of Eggsy’s palm, huffing another sigh. “I called him once you were put to bed and went off on him.”

The young man raises a brow. “So that’s who you were yellin’ at,” he says in awe.

“You heard that?”

“Some of it,” Eggsy admits sheepishly. “Was wonderin’ who the poor bastard on the other end was. You sounded like you was gonna go over there and murder him.”

Merlin rolls his eyes as his lips quirk into a fond smile. “I would have, but your health and safety was far more important.”

“A romantic you are,” he teases, watching Merlin close the distance between them like a bloody sex god or something. “Jane Austen’s blokes got nothin’ on you.”

The older man laughs. “Well I would have to agree, as they’re all dead,” Merlin replies, huskily, before kissing him.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up draped across Merlin’s body.

Merlin who’s lingering in that state of awake, but mostly asleep judging by the sedate way his thumb is stroking Eggsy’s shoulder blade. They’re cocooned under the covers, all warm and soft following several hours of rest, and far too lazy to move much.

He nuzzles his forehead into his lover’s neck, releasing a content sigh. “Mornin’,” Eggsy mumbles without bothering to open his eyes.

“Morning,” Merlin greets, sounding amused. “Sleep well?”

“My arse is killin’ me,” the young man complains, fidgeting closer. “Bet you’re proud of yourself, yeah?”

Merlin chuckles tiredly. “Too exhausted to be proud,” he admits. “Ask me in a few hours.”

Whatever he expected from their first date, it certainly wasn’t the two of them turning into sex maniacs. Not that Eggsy is going to bitch about it.

“Want to spend the rest of the day in bed?” he inquires, planting a kiss on Merlin’s chest. “Just sleepin’ and bein’ lazy arseholes.”

“What time is it anyway?” Merlin asks as he shifts, taking Eggsy with him as he inspects the young man’s alarm. He groans and flops back onto the mattress. “Nine in the morning.”

Eggsy laughs. “Then go back to sleep, you tit!”

“It so happens that I have this cheeky little shit using me as a pillow,” the older man retorts, holding him closer and burying his face into Eggsy’s hair. “And he’s engaging in a conversation with me.”

“Well then, I’ll just shut my trap,” he quips, practically melting into Merlin’s embrace.

He likes being held by the man, what else can he say? It feels natural to have the scent of Merlin’s skin lingering around him and pressed into his cheek. There’s no post-coital discomfort or the need to play his cards right—Eggsy can just be. They can tease each other while lying naked in his bed or alternatively kiss until their lips are puffy and sensitive.

A half hour later, he clears his throat. “Can I take you on a second date then?” Eggsy questions.

“Certainly,” Merlin answers as his hand trails over the length of the young man’s torso, caressing and following his movements with his mouth. He has that look in his eyes, the one where he’s going to ravish Eggsy until he can barely remember his own name.

He watches as the blankets are pulled down with Merlin, revealing his body to the open air of his bedroom. Eggsy gasps at the press of lips on his hip, something his lover discovered the night before, and squeezes his eyes shut as a tongue swirls around the joint. “Merlin,” he groans, his cock twitching at the man’s muffled acknowledgment.

And then Roxy has to fucking ruin the moment by barging in while calling, “I’m back! Are you still alive or should I call fo…oh hello, Merlin.”

They scramble to cover themselves with the blankets as she just stands there with a straight face. “Roxanne,” Merlin greets.

“Good morning,” she says, lips twitching. “Did I interrupt?”

Eggsy groans, rolling his eyes so hard that his head begins to ache. “Did you interrupt? Ever hear of knockin’?”

“I yelled for you when I came in,” Roxy tells him, grinning. “But apparently you both were a bit preoccupied.”

“Roxy, darling,” Merlin mumbles through gritted teeth. “Did you need something?”

Leaning in the doorway, she shrugs. “My brother and James invited us to brunch at their flat,” Roxy explains, her voice quivering as she begins to giggle. “Unless if you're both _too_ busy.”

“We’re too busy,” Eggsy and Merlin shout simultaneously. The former shoos her from the room. “Close the door behind you, yeah? We were in the middle of somethin’!”

Roxy bursts out laughing and blows them a kiss as she complies with her flatmate’s request. Eggsy is still scowling at her retreat when Merlin turns his head by the chin and beams at him.

“Now,” he says, “where were we?”

 

* * *

 

_A Year and a Half Later_

So here’s the thing: Eggsy is fully aware that dogs are meant to withstand a bit of a chill because they have fur.

This doesn’t explain why he’s currently holding JB against the inside of his jacket with the pug’s head exposed at his collar. The puppy, who is only twelve weeks old, seems quite content with this arrangement as he’s finally stopped shivering and making pathetic sounds that leaves Eggsy completely gutted when he hears them.

Not to mention that Merlin will be laughing his arse off once he comes out of the toy store.

“You better realize that you’ve got me wrapped around your curly tail,” Eggsy says to the puppy, kissing the top of his fawn and black colored head. “Your papa and I are mad ‘bout you, JB. Absolutely gone ‘round the twist over you.”

The pug sighs, pushing his wet nose into Eggsy’s neck and yawns.

The young man rolls his eyes at this because leave it to his and Merlin’s dog to be completely blasé about being spoiled rotten. And the little fur ball is well aware of the power he has over both men; just one look at them with his comically big brown eyes and they’re both beyond fucked.

“That’s right,” Eggsy grouses, peppering JB’s head with kisses. “Act like you don’t care now! Little cheek!”

It’s not entirely true. JB is a very affectionate and even-tempered puppy who adores his humans. He loves to sit on their laps and cuddle or alternatively follow them around the flat or office. The pug is always happy to see them and wags his curly-q tail whenever he hears their voices.

Or when they’re playing.

The dog more or less has run of the flat, save for their bed as JB is still too small to sleep on it. When he’s a bit larger, Eggsy is certain that he’ll be joining them, but for now, the puppy has his very plush bed in his kennel.

And toys.

So many toys and sweaters and other dog-type things.

Whatever, their flat is big enough and Eggsy thinks that Merlin is not-so-secretly delighted that he was able to surprise his boyfriend with the little bundle of fur.

It just so happened that his birthday and their six month anniversary of living together fell on the same day, so Merlin dragged him out to the country under the pretense of going to a fancy inn for brunch. Instead, he drove them to the breeder’s home and presented Eggsy with JB, all one point three kilograms of him.

He _might have_ gotten teary-eyed because the tiny thing was just too adorable not to coo over.

Except when he attacked Eggsy’s face with his tongue.

JB’s been with them for a month and today they are going to Merlin’s sister’s house for lunch in an effort to socialize him with other dogs.

Evelyn Greaves-Hampstead is two years older than her brother and thinks that Eggsy is a splendid addition to Merlin’s life. Actually, his boyfriend’s entire family has been nothing but welcoming to the young man. Granted, they knew Eggsy prior to him being Hamish’s fellow; it’s neither here nor there.

What matters is that they have a toy for Daisy, Merlin’s four-year-old niece, whom both men absolutely dote upon.

So here he and JB stand, waiting for the other member of their little family’s return. Eggsy adjusts the collar of the pug’s sweater, ensuring that it’s not bothering him. “I don’t know of many dogs that have their own wardrobes,” he says. “Your papa and I must utterly mad, JB. Utterly…”

“Eggsy?”

He looks up at hearing his name and finds himself staring at Harry Hart because what are the fucking odds? It seems that his ex-boyfriend isn’t alone either, as one of his hands is clasped with that Italian bloke Eggsy vaguely recalls. “Hi,” he stammers, a bit thrown for a loop.

Also what are the odds that Merlin would decide that _now_ is a good time to pop out of the shop, carrying a brightly colored bag as he shoves the receipt into his pocket? “Sorry ‘bout that, love,” he greets, kissing Eggsy on the cheek before noticing the dog inside of his boyfriend’s jacket. “JB, what are you doing?”

“He was cold,” Eggsy retorts, holding the puppy closer to his body and momentarily forgetting about Harry. “Was shiverin’ and everythin’! I couldn’t just let him stand on the ground now could I?”

Merlin is ignoring him now and coos over JB. “Your daddy is a bit off his nut, don’t you agree?” He strokes the pug’s head when Harry clears his throat, startling him. “Harry!”

“Merlin,” he says, extending his hand for them to shake. Harry looks quite perplexed by the domestic scene in front of him. “Fancy seeing you both here.” He motions to the Italian bloke. “You remember Alessandro.”

Eggsy observes his boyfriend’s polite smile as he goes to shake Alessandro’s hand, making awkward reintroductions before the Italian’s grey eyes are on him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he says apologetically.

Merlin wraps an arm around Eggsy’s shoulder. “This is my boyfriend, Eggsy Unwin,” he states as the young man smiles in greeting.

Eggsy catches the conflicted expression on Harry’s face before it disappears. “I’d shake your hand, but they’re a bit preoccupied with this little one,” he says conversationally, nudging JB gently. The pug blinks tiredly and goes about burying his face into Eggsy’s chest. “Aww, don’t be like that!”

“How old is he?” Alessandro inquires as he goes to pet the puppy’s head.

“Twelve weeks,” he says, beaming. “Merlin and I brought him home last month.”

Alessandro sighs when the pug yawns. “What a handsome little man,” he tells Eggsy and Merlin, smiling. “Have you named him?”

“JB,” Merlin replies.

Harry raises a brow. “JB? What does that stand for?”

“Jack Bauer,” Eggsy says at the same time his boyfriend replies, “Joe Baker.” They turn to each other, pulling faces at the contradiction. The former rolls his eyes at the idea of their dog being named after Arsenal’s center forward. “It’s still up for debate.”

Merlin snorts at this. “I’ll have you know that Joe Baker was an amazing forward,” he retorts, playfully.

“Well, you should have picked out a girl then,” Eggsy teases. “We could have named her Jane Bennett without any trouble.”

Alessandro makes a sound of recognition and snaps his fingers. “She’s one of the characters from _Pride and Prejudice_ , right?” He squeezes Harry’s hand, leaning into him with a smile. “This one has a copy he got from a used book store. It has all these scribbles in it, but he reads it once a month at least!”

Eggsy swears his heart skips a beat as he stares at Harry’s stoic face. A faint blush appears on his cheeks as he forces a grin. “Actually, it was a gift,” he softly corrects, his gaze moving to the young man.

In his brown eyes lies regret and a bit of sorrow, not that it matters now. Even if Harry had done something soon after they split up, Eggsy is certain that he would never be able to fully trust him, no matter how much he wanted to. There would always be the underlying thought of if he was good enough for the likes of Harry Hart or wondering when the man before him would come to his senses and leave.

Eggsy may not be the wisest of the lot when it comes to relationships, but he knows that it wouldn’t be the right way to live. “Oh?” he finds himself asking. “A gift from who?”

“From someone I didn’t appreciate enough,” Harry admits with a tight smile.

In that moment Eggsy realizes that it’s an apology; a genuine apology from someone who knows how much he hurt him. His eyes begin to sting, which he quickly blinks away as Harry turns to Merlin.

With a merry laugh and a soft punch to the arm, Harry exclaims, “So I heard that a certain firm just broke ground on the new Valentine campus; well done!”

They chat for a bit until Merlin’s mobile goes off with a text message from Evelyn. “Shite,” he curses. “We’ve got to get going. Evie is having us over for lunch and puppy socializing.”

“Right,” Harry agrees. “Well, it was good seeing you both.” He motions to Eggsy, his eyes locked on Merlin. “Don’t let him slip through your fingers, mate.”

Eggsy finds that Merlin is grinning at him. “I don’t plan on it,” he assures before bestowing a kiss upon the young man’s brow.

“Is that a promise?” Eggsy teases later on as they drive over to Evelyn’s house. He has a napping JB in his lap and one hand clasping Merlin’s. “Not letting me slip through your fingers?”

His boyfriend cannot seem to contain his smile. “If I have things my way, we’re going to get married and have a horde of dogs running around our flat,” Merlin tells him, quickly glancing over the young man. “How does that sound to you, love?”

Eggsy leans over and kisses his cheek, much to JB’s chagrin. “Sounds absolutely perfect, babe.”

Because, quite frankly, it is.


End file.
